


shadows come together

by bloominsummer



Category: K-pop, SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Sexual Content, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Jeon Wonwoo-centric, M/M, Minor Kim Mingyu/Xu Ming Hao | The8, Polyamory, Swinging Couples to Polyamorous Lovers :], initially a pwp but now... there is too much plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:14:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29309394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloominsummer/pseuds/bloominsummer
Summary: “Trust me on this.”Junhui leans close enough for Wonwoo to catch a trace of his shampoo. The scent is a little sweet, a little intoxicating.Though he manages to refrain from pushing Junhui’s annoyingly attractive face away, Wonwoo does fix him with an incredulous look. “That’s exactly the problem. I don’t.”Following Junhui's suggestion, Wonwoo gets Soonyoung an unconventional Valentine’s present, and Jihoon wouldn't want to miss the ride for the world.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi, Jeon Wonwoo/Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Jihoon | Woozi/Wen Jun Hui | Jun, Jeon Wonwoo/Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Jeon Wonwoo/Wen Jun Hui | Jun, Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Wen Jun Hui | Jun, Lee Jihoon | Woozi/Wen Jun Hui | Jun
Comments: 25
Kudos: 90





	1. in the middle of a quiet lake

**Author's Note:**

> i have deemed the gyuhao appearance a must in my 96z fics from now on, so we’ll all have to live with it. also… this fic basically cannibalised a long abandoned soonwoo wip (titled “sensible heat”) to grow, but i’m more than okay with it <3
> 
> i apologise for:  
> 1) the continuity errors in the sex scenes (4 people are really... too much. where is wonwoo's right ankle? jihoon's hand? jun's mouth? idk don't ask me. they're probably all on soonyoung's body somehow). also just errors in general none of my work is ever betaed oops  
> 2) putting plot into porn as i always tend to do
> 
> ok~ light a flame unit this one’s for you freaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How do you want to fuck me?” Wonwoo hears Jihoon ask from behind him and he quickly sits back down before he gets too dizzy. “Do you want to flip me over and mount?” Fuck. His sharp tongue remains, apparently. Fuck Jihoon. Fuck the mental image his words conjure inside Wonwoo’s head. “Or do you want me on my back as you split me open on your cock?”
> 
> Soonyoung seems to share the same sentiment, because he lets slip an awed, “Holy shit.”

Serendipity begins like many things in Wonwoo’s life did before: with Wen Junhui throwing him a trademarked boxy grin from across the table, having freshly presented a ludicrous idea. An idea Wonwoo would never have entertained if it hadn’t come out of Junhui’s mouth.

They grew up together, which meant Wonwoo had plenty of exposure to this brand of Junhui suggestion. Wild and reckless, but often a risk worth taking. High risk, high reward, all that. Junhui took one introductory Finance class in sophomore year and wouldn’t shut up about it since.

Still, even when his ideas appeared to be questionable at first glance (or second, or third, or up until the time everything turned out fine), Wonwoo always trusted Junhui enough to go along with them. After all, he understands that Junhui only has his best interests at heart.

It wasn’t rare that people questioned how Wonwoo’s quiet soul deals with Junhui’s loud persistence, but the inquiry came from a lack of understanding rather than hostility. They simply didn’t see things the way Wonwoo did—saw the few ways he and Junhui didn’t fit, and not the many ways they did.

They didn’t know that every dinner invitation was an effort to make certain Wonwoo ate a proper meal, every boastful introduction of Wonwoo he made to practically anyone who’d care to listen a display of the pride Junhui has in him, every door he slammed wide open subsequently held for Wonwoo to walk through.

Today, though, it’s a little harder for Wonwoo not to be sceptical.

“So what you’re saying is,” Wonwoo reiterates carefully, making extra sure he’s not understanding his friend wrong, “I should give _your_ boyfriend as a Valentine’s gift to _my_ boyfriend?”

“Exactly!” Junhui beams, the power of a supernova burning bright behind his light brown eyes. “See, you get it.”

He’s being playful, Wonwoo thinks easily. Of course, there’s another explanation for it, one that involves Junhui being completely sincere in his delivery, but Wonwoo’s mind refuses to acknowledge that possibility. Occam’s razor, right? The best explanation, the _correct_ explanation, is the simpler one out of the two. So—Junhui is messing with him. Nothing more than that. It’s practically pastime for him, isn’t it?

So Wonwoo just shakes his head and reaches for his glass of water. “You’re the wrong person to ask for advice.”

“Trust me on this.”

Junhui leans close enough for Wonwoo to catch a trace of his shampoo. The scent is a little sweet, a little intoxicating.

Though he manages to refrain from pushing Junhui’s annoyingly attractive face away, Wonwoo does fix him with an incredulous look. “That’s exactly the problem. I don’t.”

“I don't understand what’s the big deal. The two of you enjoy a good adventure, right? Last year you went bungee-jumping together, and that wasn’t a common Valentine’s day activity either,” Junhui says pointedly, daring Wonwoo to contradict his point. “Look, having sex with Jihoon is, to support my point, _a gift_. And since Soonyoung’s always so charming, it’ll take nothing at all to convince Jihoon to play along.”

“My relationship is not a game, Jun-ah.” Wonwoo sets his glass down a little too hard, he spills some liquid onto the wooden surface of the table. “And what about you? You can’t just offer up Jihoon’s consent without talking to him first.”

“It’s not a violation of consent if we’ve talked about it before,” Junhui huffs, “we just always discussed things in strict hypotheticals.”

 _That_ , Wonwoo has to admit, manages to take him by surprise. He jerks away from Junhui at the revelation, face rosy with the heat of a burning knowledge. The tissue held in his hand meant to wipe up the moisture crumpled inside Wonwoo's tight fist. Surely, fantasising about your best friend’s significant other is an obvious violation of the bro code.

“You two talked about having sex with Soonyoung?!” he hisses lowly to avoid other people in the restaurant from hearing him, “What kind of friend are you, what the fuck?”

“We talked about having sex with Soonyoung and _you_ ," Junhui pats his shoulder like the gesture is supposed to assuage some of Wonwoo's discomfort. It doesn't. "Relax," he says again. "We would never leave you out of the scenario.”

Wonwoo doesn't know how to respond to that. He opens his mouth to say something, _anything_ , but his entire left hemisphere seems paralysed.

“Besides, can you blame us? You’re both very attractive people and we hang out all the time.”

“Maybe we should stop hanging out, then,” Wonwoo responds lowly, grabbing another sheet of tissue to take care of the mess he's made.

Unfortunately, Junhui remains unfazed by the idle threat.

“You’ll never be able to get rid of me. You love me.” He gives Wonwoo another one of those boxy grins, and Wonwoo returns it with a blank look until he caves in. “Fine, just forget I said anything. Wipe the last five minutes from your memory. Put in into the trash and empty the folder. Hard reset your drive, even. Okay?”

“How could I ever,” Wonwoo bemoans, rubbing a hand over his face tiredly.

He expected an ordinary lunch and maybe some inspiration from Junhui, but now he’s getting a headache.

“This is your own fault, you know. You just had to be one of those hopeless romantic couples who outdo each other’s grand gestures every year. No wonder you’re in this situation right now.”

There is some amount of truth in Junhui’s words. Wonwoo never planned for their _I love you-no I love you more_ banter to ever take such form, but once they got rid of the competitiveness aspect of it, taking turns to come up with a Valentine’s Day activity to do together became a special part of their relationship.

“I just want to make Soonyoung happy.”

Junhui’s eyes lose their teasing edge upon hearing Wonwoo’s sincere admission. “You don’t need to do anything big for that. I’m sure you’ll come up with something, but if you don’t… there’s always my brilliant idea.”

He wriggles his eyebrows suggestively and this time Wonwoo does push him away, planting the heel of his palm against the tip of Junhui’s nose.

“Fuck off,” spats Wonwoo, but there has never been any heat to the words when he says them to Junhui.

The server who brings their meals around gives Wonwoo a frown for his potty mouth and he has to sheepishly apologise as Junhui holds back a laugh.

🔥🔥🔥🔥

The important day is fast approaching and Wonwoo still hasn’t settled with what he’s going to do this year. He looks over at Soonyoung, his boyfriend sitting in front of the dresser table, staring at his reflection in the mirror as he evens out the white dots of night cream on his face. Wonwoo gazes down at his phone.

The lock screen is a picture of him, Soonyoung, Junhui, and Jihoon on their last excursion to Busan. When they were there, Jihoon took them to the baseball field he used to play at with his middle school team and Soonyoung made silly poses on the mound as if he was a star pitcher.

“Wow,” Junhui had wolf-whistled, “you’re a natural!”

Soonyoung’s entire being lit up with pride. “Hear that, babe? I’m a _natural_!”

Wonwoo didn’t have the heart to tell him Junhui knew absolutely nothing about baseball. Junhui can't even play foot volleyball if his life depended on it, though Wonwoo never once missed out on picking him as a teammate.

He looks at Soonyoung again.

“Hey, what do you want for Valentine’s?”

Soonyoung catches his eyes through the mirror. “A castle,” he answers, not missing a single beat.

“A castle...?”

“Yes.” He turns to Wonwoo with his hands crossed over his chest, pouting slightly. “Maybe inside I’ll find a prince charming who knows that the rule is not to ask what I want, but surprise me with their idea.”

Yeah, that sort of response is to be expected. Soonyoung is rather strict when it comes to terms and conditions, gets sullen quickly when Wonwoo doesn't adhere to them.

He gives in and says, “You’re right.”

Maybe the forlorn look on his face is what makes Soonyoung coo in sympathy. He puts away the tub of night cream and joins Wonwoo in bed, immediately leaning his head against Wonwoo’s shoulder. Smiling, Wonwoo turns his face to place a kiss at the peak of his forehead.

“Are you stressed out?” asks Soonyoung, patting Wonwoo’s stomach softly in reassurance. “Don’t be. I’m sure I’ll love whatever you come up with, because I love you.”

A wave of fondness washes over Wonwoo and is about to engulf him completely when Soonyoung adds a good-natured reminder, “As long as you stay within budget.”

The quip helps ease the tension still, because Wonwoo laughs aloud at that. Soonyoung presses even closer into him as Wonwoo’s chest rumble with delight, head going lower and lower like he wants to capture the exhilarated beating of Wonwoo’s heart with his ear. Wonwoo puts his arm around Soonyoung’s shoulders and reels him in.

“I remember the budget.”

They had to set an upper ceiling two years into the tradition, because Soonyoung’s extreme ambition to come out on top had almost driven them to bankruptcy. To this day, Wonwoo still shudders to imagine what it would be like if they had to camp in Junhui’s living room until they get back on their own feet. His friendship can survive many things, but perhaps not that.

“Good,” says Soonyoung, satisfied with Wonwoo’s response. He tilts his face just enough to kiss Wonwoo’s chin, unbothered by his faint stubble. “I didn’t doubt you, for the record. I was just reminding.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

The fondness returns and this time it transports Wonwoo to a haven. When he closes his eyes, he can feel the mild breeze caressing his face, gentle like the first kiss between tentative lovers. Behind his close lids, he sees Soonyoung smiling at him from where he’s sitting above the polka-dot patterned sofa cover turned picnic blanket. He brings his hand up to Soonyoung’s ear, caressing the piercing holes littering the upper part of the cartilage. Soonyoung curls against his chest; a spoiled cat seeking warmth.

“I know.”

🔥🔥🔥🔥

The day before Valentine’s is a relatively quiet Saturday, save for Junhui’s occasional bickering with Jihoon from the other end of the couch. Wonwoo is as prepared as he can ever be for tomorrow. He had asked Soonyoung’s mother for the Kwon’s family _seolleongtang_ recipe late last week. Acquiring it came with great difficulty—not because he met any resistance from Soonyoung’s mother, but because the instructions didn’t include one accurate measurement when she first gave them to him. Wonwoo’s not a talented enough cook to eyeball things—he needs to know if “a bit of toasted sesame oil” in the recipe means 2 teaspoons or a tablespoon.

He’s made plans to buy the ingredients early in the morning, just to have them fresh. Soonyoung's probably going to figure out what Wonwoo’s up to when he’d struggle to carry the shopping bags through the door after the trip, but Wonwoo can keep him out of the kitchen. He’ll know to expect a dinner, but not what they'd be having.

Soonyoung rests his chin above Wonwoo’s head and he thinks about making him _hotteok_ to wash down the meal tomorrow. Some with sun butter and chocolate chip filling, some with red beans. Ah. Yes. That’s a good idea, actually. His boyfriend might throw a comment about the lack of cohesiveness in the menu, but within seconds he would be stuffing his cheeks full of the dessert.

“Stop squirming,” Jihoon chides Junhui sharply, and his voice brought Wonwoo back to the present.

Always the rebel, Junhui wriggles more excessively instead of settling down, trying to find a comfortable position to rest his head on Jihoon’s stomach. Wonwoo works out with the younger man every alternate week, so he knows fully well Junhui’s mission is no easy feat for any man.

The TV is playing a movie Wonwoo’s never seen before and can’t recall the title of, but he doesn't mind it. He leans back to rest the full weight of his upper half against Soonyoung’s chest, practically using his boyfriend as a body pillow. At this rate, Soonyoung’s legs will fall asleep before the first act concludes. He hasn’t asked Wonwoo to move away nor voice a protest about their situation, though, so he makes himself at home between Soonyoung’s sturdy, warm thighs.

They’re barely twenty minutes in before Junhui starts whining, “I’m so bored.”

“You picked—” Jihoon begins to say, but Junhui swiftly leans up to press their lips together, effectively swallowing Jihoon’s barbed remark.

Junhui does that a lot, shutting Jihoon up by stealing a kiss, because it’s a tried and tested method. Jihoon never forgets to make his objection known afterwards, but he always melts into Junhui during the kiss itself. Wonwoo has never seen him reject Junhui once, even if the tips of his ears turn scarlet by the time they separate.

Wonwoo doesn’t know why he doesn’t look away at the display of affection, but he doesn’t, and when Junhui releases Jihoon, his gaze travels to meet Wonwoo’s. He must have found something in Wonwoo’s expression, because Junhui sets his lips in a determined line.

The surrounding air thickens with forewarning.

“I have an idea,” says Junhui, his tone way too casual for the scale of the bomb he drops next. “How about we do something really fun? Like, the sexy kind of fun.”

A prolonged silence ensues his words; a fragile bubble Wonwoo dares not to burst.

“Not between the two us, of course,” he gesticulates between Jihoon and himself, “that’s no different from usual.”

The suggestive nature of his proposal doesn’t go over anyone’s head. Soonyoung inhales sharply behind him and Wonwoo’s pulse quickens on the inside of his wrist. Jihoon seems to be the least affected out of all of them, though Wonwoo understands why. The two of them have talked about it, right? This scenario right here, new and strange as it might be to Wonwoo, is a possibility they have casually toyed with before.

“Soonyoung.” The way Junhui drawls out Soonyoung’s name sends red-hot sparks flying down _Wonwoo_ ’s spine. Rather than jealousy, he thinks the flare might have originated from anticipation. “Don’t you want to kiss my boyfriend?”

Shit.

Wonwoo didn’t think to update Junhui on the Valentine’s Day gift issue, which means he probably thinks he’s doing Wonwoo a favour here. Misguided intentions aside, this is one of the things he appreciates most about Junhui. The way he presents the opportunity gives Wonwoo room to laugh it off and treat it like any other prank the oldest of the four likes to pull on the rest of them, in case Soonyoung has an adverse reaction. Junhui has no problem falling on the sword for him—an honourable sacrifice others are rarely willing to make.

But then Wonwoo cranes his neck to look at Soonyoung, and he sees _want_ glittering in his eyes. He ought to know, Soonyoung’s worn that look around him for years.

Oh.

“You can,” Wonwoo tells him before he can think twice about giving his permission.

Worry lines appear on Soonyoung’s forehead as his eyebrows grow taut, the corners of his lips tugged downward. “Huh?”

“You can,” Wonwoo repeats, sitting up straight.

“Really?”

He delivers a fleeting kiss upon Soonyoung’s chapped lips, an encouragement for him to go after what he wants. “Count it as your Valentine’s Day present.” Wonwoo shifts away to allow Soonyoung easy access to the other side of the couch. “If you want it to be.”

“Yeah.” Soonyoung smiles, soft. “I’d like that. It comes early for once.” He cups Wonwoo’s face and kisses him again, deeper and with more intent than Wonwoo had kissed him before. “And bonus points for staying within the budget.”

“Don’t forget to ask Jihoon if he’s okay with it,” Wonwoo reminds him.

Soonyoung nods in response, then moves away.

With a lopsided grin on his face, Junhui gets behind Wonwoo, essentially switching position with Soonyoung. He can feel his friend’s warm breath on the nape of his neck as Soonyoung brings his hands up—tentative as they are—to cup Jihoon’s face. The questioning murmurs that come out of him are so quiet, Wonwoo’s ears can’t quite catch what he’s saying, but Wonwoo believes Soonyoung is following his previous instruction down to the letter.

He’s raising a muted inquiry to Jihoon, _may I?_

Jihoon’s reactions hit Wonwoo full-force, tilting his previously steady world on its axis. The way Jihoon’s features soften at the inquiry. The uncertainty-ridden glance he sends in Junhui’s direction. The small nod he offers Soonyoung after presumably getting the go-ahead from his boyfriend, followed by the fluttering of his short lashes as his eyes fall close.

Soonyoung’s lips meet Jihoon’s, and Junhui’s barely audible whisper carries through the thunders inside Wonwoo’s chest. “Well. Dinner’s going to be late tonight, isn’t it?”

If he had any functioning brain cells left, he might have mustered up a reply, but the sight in front of him makes Wonwoo's blood leave his head to gather hotly in between his legs, and his brain is slowly growing deprived of oxygen.

As he deepens their kiss, Soonyoung uses his body to bear down on Jihoon, flattening him against the cushion top until the younger man’s head is rested above one of the baby blue pillows. Instinctively, Jihoon’s legs spread to accommodate for Soonyoung’s presence. Their lips don’t leave each other. Not for one second.

Junhui’s hair tickles the side of his face and Wonwoo catches a hint of his shampoo again.

It smells an awful lot like roses.

“Should,” Jihoon starts when Soonyoung finally lets up for air. “Should we,” he repeats, but gets cut off again by Soonyoung thumbing at his bottom lip. Either he’s wiping his saliva away or smearing it; Wonwoo doesn’t know which option is hotter. “Should we move this to the bedroom?”

“Good idea,” Junhui rises from his seat, taking the pressure of his presence from Wonwoo’s back. Wonwoo realises how much tighter his pants have grown from two minutes of foreplay. “Why are you not standing up?”

“Well, uh, I thought—”

“You want to stay here?” Wonwoo stares up at him, unblinking. Junhui takes his silence as an affirmation. “And do what, make conversations with me when there’s an entire award-worthy performance going on in the next room?”

“I prefer Junhui to join us,” Jihoon says from his position underneath Soonyoung, caged in a perfect trap between his arms. _Ensnared_ is probably a better word for it, since Soonyoung's legs are also winding around Jihoon's body and locking him in. “My money’s on Soonyoung feeling the same thing about you.”

Soonyoung confirms Jihoon’s assumption with an excited nod, pulling away from Jihoon to sit back on his heels. God, how's Wonwoo expected to refuse him with that expectant look painted across his face in vibrant colours? Even if it’s the moon on a silver platter Soonyoung asks for, he would find a way to give it to him.

“We can’t all fit into the bed,” Wonwoo points out. “It’s cramped enough as is with two people.”

“Someone clearly didn’t think this through,” Jihoon shoots a glare in Junhui’s direction, who just grins apologetically. “Well, what can we do?”

“Your gaming chair.”

“What about it?”

“Bring it into the room,” Junhui says, matter-of-factly. “You can sit there and I’ll take the floor. See? Problem solved. Crisis averted. Everyone can put their horny pants back on again, or off, whichever.”

Since he has no proper rebuttal for that, Wonwoo lets Junhui trail him to his gaming room to retrieve the chair in question. Junhui even does the honour of rolling it all the way to the bedroom, where they find Soonyoung sitting on the bed, leaning back on his palms. Jihoon stands right next to him, waiting for Wonwoo to give him permission like he didn't want to overstep and enter Wonwoo's territory without being granted entry.

The whole thing feels surreal. Even as Wonwoo takes a seat on his chair which Junhui had set a safe distance away from the bed. Even as Junhui nudges his knees apart to make room for himself, fitting seamlessly between Wonwoo’s legs like he’s always meant to be there. Even as makes a vague gesture with his hand at Jihoon.

 _Continue_.

“Before we start,” says Jihoon, one knee propped up on the mattress. “I gotta ask.”

“Ask away,” Soonyoung replies.

“How kinky is Wonwoo, actually?”

“Hey!” Wonwoo protests as Junhui laughs, feeling his face heats up with embarrassment. “How’s that information relevant?” he demands, but it’s a weak retort.

“Of course it’s relevant.”

Well of course it is. Jihoon’s going to have sex with Soonyoung, he should know what to expect out of the encounter. That means getting an overview of Soonyoung’s sexual history and, well, if his sex life was ever catalogued then the last thousand entries would be filled with Wonwoo’s name. It was a fair question, but that doesn’t mean Wonwoo can’t feel defensive about it.

“Still,” he grumbles. “There was no need to phrase the question that way.”

Junhui pats his knee, placating, but other than that Wonwoo gets ignored completely. Jihoon simply tucks a finger under Soonyoung’s chin to guide his gaze upward. Him initiating physical contact in such a gentle fashion is a jarring sight to Wonwoo, but Junhui seems used to it. Perhaps this is the way Jihoon is with lovers: sharp tongue and stony gazes carded aside for a more sentimental touch.

“I’m not hearing an answer here.”

“He’s not,” Soonyoung begins, glancing momentarily at Wonwoo. “Vanilla, I guess. But it’s not like I have many references either.” He swallows with effort, full attention now paid to Jihoon’s hands that are working to undo the buttons of his shirt. “We’ve used ropes. Um, and blindfolds.”

The hands still. Two more buttons. “Blindfolds?”

“Yeah.”

Wonwoo can tell how desperately Soonyoung wants him to carry on.

“On you?”

“Occasionally.”

His fingers twitch against the sheets. _Their_ sheets. Wonwoo’s gone up in the middle of the night to chuck them into the washing machine for an embarrassing amount of time, given how far they’ve gone past their college years.

“Nice,” Jihoon comments with a quirk of his lips, then he resumes the work he was doing.

Soonyoung pays his full attention to Jihoon as he shimmies out of his dress pants and sets his wristwatch above the dresser. Was there a reason behind Jihoon wearing his work attire today? Wonwoo can’t remember. Maybe he had an open house before coming over? That would be the most plausible explanation. In any case, watching him undress converts the warmth that has been building inside Wonwoo’s chest into molten heat.

“What do you want?”

Soonyoung’s eyes darken as they roam over Jihoon’s body, muscles all arranged at the right places, long lines and sculpted edges. Wonwoo, too, takes time to appreciate how glorious Jihoon's body is. _Knowing_ he's well built and _seeing_ him out of the muscle tees he always wears to the gym are two entirely different cases.

“To fuck you," answers Soonyoung, once he gets his mouth working again. "If—”

“Get the stuff for me,” Jihoon throws over his shoulder to no one in particular.

Then he climbs above the bed, above _Soonyoung_ , and Wonwoo’s throat runs dry as a desert. Wonwoo can’t even complain that Jihoon is technically closer to the drawer than he is. All he can do is carefully navigates around Junhui to carry out the indirect order.

Jihoon’s fingers linger on his much longer than necessary when Wonwoo hands him the lube, almost like he’s trying to get Wonwoo to stay. His heart leaping to his throat, Wonwoo tries to calm it down by kissing the crown of Soonyoung’s head.

As he makes his way back to his friend, Junhui’s wearing a look Wonwoo stubbornly refuses to acknowledge. The smug _I told you so_ is written in bold, capital letters all over his face.

“How do you want to fuck me?” Wonwoo hears Jihoon ask from behind him and he quickly sits back down before he gets too dizzy. “Do you want to flip me over and mount?” Fuck. His sharp tongue remains, apparently. Fuck Jihoon. Fuck the mental image his words conjure inside Wonwoo’s head. “Or do you want me on my back as you split me open on your cock?”

Soonyoung seems to share the same sentiment, because he lets slip an awed, “Holy shit.”

“Not an answer.”

“Hands and knees."

Jihoon nods.

“But later,” he adds quickly, hands coming up to Jihoon’s waist to stop him from moving, stroking the skin there idly. “I.. want you on your side for now. Wanna finger you. Make them watch.”

A performer through and through, this one. Soonyoung never neglects the audience, instead he goes the extra mile to make sure they remain engaged with the show the entire time. It’s been a hot minute since Wonwoo last got fucked by him, which it only builds up his excitement to see Soonyoung fuck someone else.

Jihoon reaches for Wonwoo’s pillow and crashes sideways onto the mattress in a manner that’s almost violent if not for the way he angles his face after, asking Soonyoung to kiss him. Soonyoung complies and hastily tugs Jihoon’s underwear past his ass until it reaches his knees. When Jihoon releases him from the kiss, Soonyoung expunges it with one abrupt pull. The fabric lands on the floor somewhere with a faint thud, but Wonwoo's mind doesn't fully register it over the sight his eyes are feasting on.

Soonyoung nudges Jihoon’s milky thighs apart with a hand and sets Jihoon half-lying on his stomach. Obscured by the positioning of his legs, Wonwoo can’t see Jihoon's dick properly from where he's sitting, but everything else is paraded for his viewing pleasure.

Carefully, Soonyoung repositions his hand where his intention can no longer be mistaken. Jihoon’s body trembles slightly. Desire crashes through Wonwoo like an electromagnetic wave, threatening to shut down his nervous system. By the way Junhui’s exhales have grown hasher by the minute, Wonwoo knows it’s affecting him just as much. He holds his breath as Soonyoung uncaps the transparent bottle and squirts a generous dollop on his pointer finger, an action Wonwoo’s done many times for him, then rubs it against Jihoon’s rim, also an action Wonwoo’s done many times to him.

He makes his way up the bed again, aligning his body with Jihoon’s from head to toe. Soonyoung dives to kiss along the slope of his neck when he pushes the pad of his finger past Jihoon’s rim and Wonwoo’s not nearly far enough from them to miss the way Jihoon clenches around him.

 _Make them watch_ , Soonyoung had said. Wonwoo feels stupid for thinking he shouldn’t be here at first. It’s a true wonder to see him in this light—a _gift_. Whenever he bottoms, Wonwoo’s usually too far gone in the moment to fully appreciate what a thoughtful giver Soonyoung is. He’d appreciate it _after_ , pepper kisses all over Soonyoung’s face for wringing orgasms after orgasms out of him, but it’s a novel experience to stand a sober witness to the moment.

Jihoon’s hand comes up to tug at Soonyoung’s shirt and Soonyoung gets the signal, tugging it over his head in one swift motion before returning to the task at hand. He’s still wearing his sweatpants, now decorated with a telling dark patch at the front where he’s leaking precome into the fabric, but Soonyoung does nothing to grind his cock against Jihoon’s lower half. He’s twice as patient as Wonwoo when it comes to needing friction.

They kiss again as Soonyoung slips a second finger and Jihoon jerks, though he quickly melts into Soonyoung, sighing softly into his mouth. Soonyoung traps Jihoon’s bottom lip in between his teeth when he pulls away, finally drawing a moan out of him loud enough to share with the entire room.

In front of him, Junhui shifts to a more comfortable position. Wonwoo hears the clinking of his belt being undone, then Junhui is gazing up at him, eyes glassy and unfocused. He gets it. He feels the exact same way Junhui does.

“Aren’t you going to take care of yourself?” asks Junhui, digging his front teeth into his bottom lip, bitten-red.

“I’m fine,” Wonwoo answers him, but the words don't come without difficulty.

His voice had a strange texture, like his vocal cords were moved against a steel grater when he spoke. He almost didn't recognise himself talking. The tent in his pants is nowhere near a modest erection and the fire has made its way down from Wonwoo's chest to his belly, stirring the dormant pool of his arousal awake. Junhui's weight against his leg might be the only reason Wonwoo can still feel it attached to his body.

Miraculously, Junhui doesn’t argue with him. “Up to you, then,” he answers, so nonchalant for a man in his current situation.

Then, he tugs his cock out of his underwear and wraps his right hand around it. Wonwoo’s seen Junhui naked before, more times than he would care to in their year of being college roommates, so the sight is nothing new to him. What’s new is the way Junhui supports his head on Wonwoo’s thigh as he pleasures himself. His action, as mundane as it’s supposed to be, leaves Wonwoo’s skin tingling with an unnamed sensation.

He looks up again to find Jihoon caressing Soonyoung inside his pants, stroking him to hardness while taking Soonyoung’s three fingers like a champion. Jihoon must be doing something right because Soonyoung appears more wrecked than he is, forehead pressed hard against Jihoon’s shoulder blade as he buries his pants onto Jihoon’s warm skin, turning it pink with his breath. Jihoon is still quieter than Wonwoo’s used to in a partner, though the continuous way his body tenses and subsequently relaxes tells him everything Jihoon could have conveyed with his words and more.

“It’s enough,” Jihoon croaks, making Soonyoung lift his head. “I’m good, Soonyoung.”

“Yeah?”

“Unless you’re the type that grows twice as big near the end, yeah.”

Soonyoung’s answering pout is too adorable for the current situation. “You never know,” he says, and Jihoon chuckles.

“Come on then, fuck me. Then I’ll know, won’t I?”

Jihoon sits up on the bed sluggishly and makes eye contact with Junhui, who throws an air kiss at him that has Jihoon rolling his eyes. And yet, Wonwoo can see it in his expression, the overwhelming fondness and devotion he has for Junhui. It’s entirely for his friend’s benefits that Jihoon crawls across the mattress, taking his time to assume the position Soonyoung had in mind for him. Once his hips are raised in the air, Jihoon wiggles them pointedly to get Soonyoung moving.

His attempt works wonders. Soonyoung scrambles to remove his pants, almost bumping his head on the headboard out of eagerness. Junhui laughs again and Wonwoo genuinely wants to haul him into his lap and jerk him off until he’s seeing stars, if it means he’d lose that cocksure composure for a minute or two. He doesn’t get the chance to, because Soonyoung lines himself behind Jihoon and pushes his way in.

The sand in the hourglass stops running. Junhui’s laugh tapers into a moan like he’s the one being fucked and not Jihoon. Jihoon’s eyes slip shut, mouth falling open, fingers twisting the sheets so hard he ripped the corners from underneath the weight of the mattress. Wonwoo doesn’t need to see what Soonyoung is doing to know he’s doing it well. His hands on the curve of Jihoon’s waist guide his body back and forth, impaling Jihoon a little bit further each time until he’s bottomed out inside of him.

Soonyoung is taller than Jihoon by a good ten centimetres but his figure is much leaner, shoulders slim where Jihoon’s are broad, so he doesn’t eclipse Jihoon’s figure completely when he descends to bring their body together. It’s a mesmerising sight to see all the contrasts they present; Wonwoo wishes this was an appropriate time to jot down the things he notices in a notebook for future introspection. He doubts he could hold a pen properly with the way his heart rate is accelerating, though.

One particularly fervent propulsion of Soonyoung’s hips propels both of them far forward and Wonwoo has an unreasonable worry they might fall off the edge. Unreasonable, because Soonyoung secures their bodies well enough, scuffling back every now and then to make sure there’s enough room left in front of Jihoon.

Jihoon, who is now been reduced to nothing more than moaning, garbling mess, his erection hanging heavily between his spread thighs, body sinking lower and lower as Soonyoung continues to give him nothing but slow, deep thrusts.

“Tell me what he likes,” Soonyoung roughs out in between the lewd noises Jihoon’s making from the back of his throat.

It takes Wonwoo a moment to register that he’s talking to Junhui. Wonwoo would have answered that Jihoon seems to like whatever Soonyoung is doing at the moment, if the way the beads of precome keep dripping onto the sheets from the head of his cock was any indication, but Junhui has a different response.

“You can touch him now,” he instructs Soonyoung, the slick sound his own hand makes alternating with the enunciation of his syllables. “But don’t stop fucking him, he gets distracted easily and it’s difficult to get him back on track once he’s veered off course.”

Soonyoung reaches around Jihoon’s body to do just that, and the power in Jihoon’s biceps almost gives up at the contact. “He’s leaking,” Soonyoung grunts. “A lot.”

The air is punched out of Wonwoo’s chest when Soonyoung raises a sticky hand in the air, white webs of precome forming in the spaces between his fingers.

“He does that.”

Soonyoung pops his thumb into his mouth and _sucks_ , pushing his fingertip against the inside of his cheek. It’s crazy how much Wonwoo loves him for it. For the way it smothers Junhui’s breathing even more. The way it sends Junhui barrelling to the precipice of his release.

“Does he like the taste?”

 _It doesn't matter_ , Wonwoo wants to quip, _I'll feed on it off your hand if he doesn't_.

“ _He_ can hear you,” Jihoon snarls, somewhat heated, but then Soonyoung snaps his hips in reprimand and the rest of his sentence comes out in huffs of fragmented breath. “And,” and, “Can,” and, “Answer. For— _God,_ there. Soon. Young, fuck. Please, _fuck_.”

How easy did that happen, Jihoon words turning into pleas?

“Junnie,” Soonyoung calls again.

Junhui’s voice sounds so, so husky when he answers, “He... does,” with a struggle.

His confirmation has Soonyoung pressing closer to Jihoon, bottoming out again inside him. He puts his index finger into Jihoon’s mouth, parting his lips with it before he finds Jihoon’s tongue, pressing down on the muscle. It should be awkward, but Jihoon laps at the digit like Soonyoung’s hand is wet with ambrosia stolen from the gods. They’re far too turned on to feel any awkwardness and truth be told, so is Wonwoo.

“God,” Junhui breathes out sharply, back curving into a pretty arch, “I’m close.” Wonwoo can tell just from the sound of his voice.

Right on cue, Jihoon bites down on Soonyoung’s finger hard enough for Soonyoung to yank his hand back. He flails for a moment as Soonyoung lifts his body until only his knees are left to support his weight. Jihoon’s chest is flushed red, the vivid colour spreading to his neck and cheeks. Soonyoung lazily trails a hand down said chest, a rather territorial display like he's showing Jihoon off. Wonwoo wonders if he looks that possessive fucking him from behind, too. Then, after his fingers form a loose circle around the base of Jihoon’s dick with his fingers, Soonyoung stops moving.

“Fuck yourself on me,” he whispers lowly into Jihoon’s ear, adding a gentle nip at the end.

Jihoon's abdominal muscles contract and Soonyoung can probably feel them move against his forearm, the inner of his wrist.

“Up, down, both. You’re free to choose, Jihoonie.”

“How very generous of you,” Jihoon remarks, but his movements are immediately frantic the moment they begin.

His impatience shines through the way he grinds down on Soonyoung, one hand coming around Soonyoung’s own to tighten his grip, fucking into the vice-like heat as fervently as he bounces on Soonyoung’s cock.

Junhui turns his face to the side, mouth searing fire over Wonwoo’s skin even through the fabric of his pants. His breathing grows laboured as Soonyoung bucks his hips up to meet Jihoon’s ass, then Junhui topples over the edge, gripping Wonwoo’s knee with bone-white knuckles, shuddering through the entirety of his orgasm. Wonwoo hesitates to thread his fingers through Junhui’s brown locks, and in his moment of hesitation Jihoon whimpers; a long, broken note that resonates in the room.

His eyes find Jihoon’s figure again just in time to see him climaxing, Soonyoung drawing thick strings out of him until Jihoon’s entirely depleted. Jihoon slumps forward, but Soonyoung’s free arm loops around his middle and inclines him the other way around instead. Jihoon falls against him, Soonyoung against the pillows. His. Wonwoo’s. Jihoon’s chest heaves from the exertion and Soonyoung kisses the hinge of his jaw.

“How was it? You feel good?” he asks.

Careful, tender.

“If I say yes,” Jihoon answers after a moment. His eyes are still closed. The convulsions come and go. Soonyoung slides his hand up and down Jihoon's length, knuckles white with come. “Is your head going to get bigger?”

“Oh, definitely.”

“Then no, I feel awful.”

“You’re lying,” Soonyoung sing-songs, “Jihoonie came sooo hard, didn’t you? You were so, so tight around me. So hot inside, too.” He strokes Jihoon’s belly as though he can feel his cock fitting snug inside like that.

Jihoon forces an eye open. “You’re annoying,” but then he kisses Soonyoung again, rough, and this time Wonwoo does take care of himself as Junhui had suggested.

And if he spills into his hand the same time Soonyoung does inside Jihoon, no one can blame him for it.

🔥🔥🔥🔥

They eat in relative silence after quick, separate showers. Junhui makes a brief comment about their excellent water pressure when Soonyoung handed him spare pants, and it’s as if nothing happened at all. Wonwoo is grateful for it, though.

It’s just his luck that the idyll doesn’t last very long.

“Next time,” Jihoon begins with a mouthful of Soonyoung’s homemade kimchi, “we should do it at our place.”

To Wonwoo’s surprise, it’s Junhui who chokes on his own saliva. Soonyoung has to pat him on the back multiple times until his coughing subsides. Junhui downs a full glass of water and slams the glass back with enough force to make Jihoon stare at him, questioning his intention with a raised brow. There’s a brief moment of silence as they communicate without exchanging words, then Jihoon surrenders, raising both hands in the air.

“Whoa, okay. I must’ve got ahead of myself.” He turns to Wonwoo, running his slim fingers through his cropped locks. “Okay, well, _if_ there is a next time, we should do it at our place. Bigger bed, better mattress, and we have the luxury of a window couch. There’s no need for the gaming chair.”

He should say no. As much as Wonwoo loved being able to see Soonyoung’s pleasure bled into his features in high definition without feeling lightheaded from fucking him or getting fucked by him, an encore was never meant to be an option.

And yet, it’s this that comes out of him when Wonwoo opens his mouth to answer: “We’ll think about it. Right?”

Soonyoung beams and Wonwoo’s heart settles back in his chest. “Yeah, we will.”

🔥🔥🔥🔥

They slept through most of Sunday. It was understandable for Soonyoung to do so considering the energy-consuming activity he had partaken in, but his fatigue seemed to just seep out through his skin and into Wonwoo’s. He obviously didn’t end up cooking the dinner as he had planned, which meant replying to Soonyoung’s mother’s follow-up of _how did the cooking go, son?_ with a concise: _We had to take a rain check, Eomeoni. But I’ll cook it for him soon_.

Still, being well-rested sets Wonwoo in a rather pleasant mood when he clocks in for work on Monday. Pleasant enough to make small talk with Mingyu, who is grinning at his phone like a fool. Any other day Wonwoo would avoid talking to him when he looks like this, because it’s a conversation incredibly hard to exit from.

He clears his throat as he sets his things down on the table to Mingyu’s right. Free address workspace means something less when Wonwoo has his preferred co-workers to be near to. As much as Mingyu can be a chatterbox, Wonwoo has long discovered they can bounce ideas off of each other quite well.

“Good morning."

"Well of course it is a good morning, Wonwoo-hyung! The air is still so full with love!"

 _Chatterbox_ , Wonwoo thinks.

"What did you do for Valentine’s?”

“Oh, Minghao and I had a night picnic on the roof of our building,” says Mingyu, lifting his gaze from his phone to look at Wonwoo. “Just us, a makeshift tent, a bottle of really good wine and some finger food. It was really romantic.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo chuckles at Mingyu’s beam, so bright it’s almost straining to the eyes, “you look positively lovestruck, but I’m glad you had fun.”

“I am lovestruck,” Mingyu sighs, still with that dreamy look on his face, “And I did have fun. What about you, hyung?”

He considers the question for a moment before he says, “Uh. You don’t want to know.”

“Well, now I definitely do!”

Okay. Let it be noted that Wonwoo tried warding him off to no avail. “We had sex.”

Mingyu frowns in distaste, but it fails to chip away at his rugged attractiveness. Wonwoo feels a bit jealous. The people around him have no rights being this aesthetically pleasing all the damn time, alright? Even Junhui, whom Wonwoo’s seen stuck his tongue out about a thousand times, suddenly looked breathtaking doing the same action the other day. Granted, his eyes were closed and moving rapidly behind his lids, breathing fractured with how near he was to his orgasm, but—

“You were right.” Mingyu’s nose crinkles as he turns away from Wonwoo, disapproving. Like he thinks Wonwoo’s not romantic enough for his standard. “I didn’t want to know that.”

His reaction makes Wonwoo wants to throw him off a little, so he volunteers the following information: “With other people.”

It’s funny sometimes how expressive Mingyu is. His surprise quickly expands his face: eyes widening comically as Wonwoo’s meaning sink in, jaw dropping so far down Wonwoo is tempted to mime picking it up.

“ _With other people?!_ ” Mingyu shrieks, then clamps a hand over his mouth.

He accidentally puts more force behind the action than necessary, resulting in a loud slap that attracts more attention to them than the original shriek. Wonwoo waves awkwardly to the coworkers who send weird looks in their direction.

Mingyu launches himself into Wonwoo’s personal space once the heat of attention is off of them. “What does that mean, hyung?”

“It means exactly what I said,” shrugs Wonwoo. “We invited another couple to our bedroom.”

“Wow.” He leans back into his chair. Wonwoo can hear the gears turning round and round inside his head as he digests the information. “And how would you describe the experience?”

Ah, of course that’s the follow-up question of his choosing. It fits their line of work, doesn’t it? The insatiable need they have for the details. Wonwoo looks at Mingyu and finds no hint of judgement in his eyes. Just pure, genuine curiosity in the answer to the question he presented. He takes a moment to think about it because, well, he didn’t expect to share what happened with anyone else, much less describe how he felt about it aside from being downright horny.

“Eye-opening.”

Wonwoo hears him let out a small _wow_ followed by, “That’s really awesome.”

“What is?”

“That you trust each other enough to do that? I mean, I assume it takes feeling secure with your partner to share them with others. The other couple, too.”

Before he has the chance to answer Mingyu, his phone buzzes in his pocket. Wonwoo takes it out and glimpses at the screen, trying to hide the elation bursting inside his chest upon reading the notification bubble. How hypocritical it would be to grin despite how pleased he feels? That would make him the pot calling Mingyu’s kettle black.

 **Soonyoungie <3**: btw, i want it. but only if u do too. i won’t hold it against u if u don’t, i promise. ^^

Wonwoo types out a quick response.

 **You** : Are you thinking about this at work?

The chat bubble appears; one, two, three, two, one dot, then Soonyoung’s response comes in.

 **Soonyoungie <3**: correction: i’m thinking abt u at work. n i think abt u always, wonu.

 **Soonyoungie <3**: have a good day, ok? i love you. lmk what u think later. :

This time Wonwoo doesn’t fight the smile that takes over his features. For the sake of conciseness, Soonyoung often abbreviates his words when texting, but he spells out _i love you_ every single time. Wonwoo supposes the message is too important to ever be shortened, and love does not always have to be concise. Sometimes love is a 20-minute long confession escaping through alcohol-loosened lips in the form of jumbled words—exactly how Soonyoung had told Wonwoo he loves him for the very first time.

A love like that takes time and patience to sort through.

And trust.

 **You** : I love you too. Work hard today and don’t forget to eat.

“I suppose so,” he answers Mingyu finally.

🔥🔥🔥🔥

“When?” Junhui questions the moment Wonwoo sits down in front of him.

How rude, Wonwoo thinks inwardly, he doesn’t even get as much as a greeting. A _hi_ would be nice. A _how are you today, Wonwoo_ would be even nicer. Whatever. He supposes this only gives him a reason to torture Junhui for his ill manners.

“I don’t understand the question,” replies Wonwoo, casually reaching for the menu even though he’d end up ordering what he always does. He’s a creature of habit like that. “What are you talking about?”

“Come on,” he nudges Wonwoo’s knee. “How long have we known each other?”

Since transfer student Junhui barged into his class one humid day and declared he’d be Wonwoo’s best friend. In other words: long enough for Junhui to be able to read Wonwoo’s behaviour like basic Chinese characters people teach children when they first start learning how to read, that’s for sure. Wonwoo should probably keep up the act a little bit longer, but it takes the fun out of pretending if Junhui already knows the outcome.

“Soonyoung and I haven’t talked about when,” he tells Junhui the truth. “But we’ve talked about where.”

“My place?”

“Your place.”

Junhui sighs, and it doesn’t sound like one of relief.

“Wait,” Wonwoo raises his head in alarm. Maybe Junhui’s reaction to Jihoon’s words at dinner that night conveyed something more than just his surprise. They never really asked him about what _he_ wanted, and they should have. “If you’re not happy about it, then—”

“It’s not that,” he waves his hand in dismissal of Wonwoo’s concern. “It means I’ll have to vacuum the place regularly from now on.”

His assurance dissipates Wonwoo’s worry, though it’s quickly replaced by horrified disbelief when he realises the implication of Junhui’s words. “You don’t vacuum your place often? The entire flooring except the kitchen area is carpet!”

“I’m a busy person, Wonwoo.”

“You’re a lunatic, that’s what you are. How does Jihoon stand living with you?”

“He thinks I vacuum when it’s my assigned week, that’s how.”

Wonwoo shakes his head, thinking he’s better off not knowing that. Ignorance was true bliss before Junhui ripped it away from him. He makes a mental note to remind Soonyoung never to sit on the floor again when they’re visiting, and find a way to subtly suggest to Jihoon that he should never entrust Junhui which cleaning chores.

“Let me know when?”

Junhui’s gaze on him is gentle, which reminds Wonwoo of the last time they shared a meal. The idea he proposed that day was bravely executed and is now about to turn into something else Wonwoo can only hope the four of them is ready for.

“Okay,” he answers.

🔥🔥🔥🔥

“We should set some ground rules,” Soonyoung says with a determined nod once they’ve laid their intentions out in the open.

“Ah, why,” Junhui whines, sulky. “Rules are for sticklers.”

“Excuse you, I happen to like them!”

Although Junhui looks at him expectantly, Wonwoo decides against playing referee. If he and Soonyoung can’t work this situation out by themselves, then it’s probably for the better that this arrangement doesn’t continue, no matter how much Wonwoo wants it to. At Wonwoo’s unresponsiveness, Junhui’s broad shoulders sag in defeat. He turns to Soonyoung once more.

“Okay, I’ll level with you.” Junhui leans back into his seat and crosses his arms over his chest, but his eyes are twinkling. Wonwoo breathes a little easier. “3 rules, no more. Each of you can put one forward, and I, to let my distaste toward the very concept of rules be duly noted here, won’t contribute to the list.”

He fights back a smile. Out of the two of them, Junhui was the one who made friends with Soonyoung first. Sure, their relationship revolved strictly around the _keep your friends close and your enemies closer_ concept in the beginning, but halfway through the semester Wonwoo got sick of their unhealthy rivalry which had made _him_ lose sleep, and forced Junhui to talk it out with him.

They called him Jeon- _seonsaengnim_ afterwards for his interference, and he had to refrain from calling them toddlers for making him act like a kindergarten teacher. Wonwoo supposed the trouble was worth seeing them dance _together_ and not _against_ one another in the winter recital. That was the first and last time he ever needed to step in and mediate their conflicts.

If only Junhui had taken a rule out of his playbook. At first, Wonwoo was convinced Soonyoung only agreed to go out with him to stop Junhui’s incessant nagging. It took five dates and Soonyoung moaning _his_ name while grinding against _his_ crotch for Wonwoo to realise it was ridiculous for him to fake interest to that extent.

Anyway.

All’s well that ends well, so who’s he to raise a complaint?

“Acceptable,” Soonyoung nods quickly, bubbly once more. Once he gets what wants, the hardship experienced along the path to the finish line is easily forgotten. “Jihoon can go first.”

Jihoon blinks at the mention of his name, as though he wasn’t expecting to be asked to weigh in on the matter. Being the one seated closest to him, Wonwoo hears Jihoon hum in consideration, right hand coming up to play with the shell of his ear as he puts some thought into it.

“I want it to be exclusive,” he says finally, looking around the table. “As long as we’re sleeping with each other, we don’t sleep with anyone else. I think that’s a reasonable ask, for safety reasons.”

“Soonyoung?” Junhui motions with a tilt of his head.

Under the table, Soonyoung reaches for Wonwoo. He feels his boyfriend's fingers lace between the gaps of his own and squeezes Soonyoung’s hand in assurance.

“My rule’s for us,” Soonyoung says, addressing Wonwoo exclusively. “We do it together or not at all.”

He thinks Soonyoung is wasting his rule because Wonwoo never planned on doing otherwise, but he understands how important this must be to Soonyoung that he needed it explicitly stated in front of witnesses. So, Wonwoo caresses the back of Soonyoung’s hand with a gentle thumb and nods.

“The two of you can do whatever you want, I guess.”

At that, Junhui grins. “Agreed,” then he taps his knuckles on the surface table impatiently to get Wonwoo’s attention. “And you?”

“Me…”

Just like Jihoon, Wonwoo didn’t come prepared to offer his input, so it takes him a minute to search for an important enough term to highlight. The other rules set were concerned with the present, the atmosphere chock-full with the excitement of what awaits them down the road. Wonwoo risks being a downer like this, but someone has to think about the end of their arrangement—even at the beginning of it.

“We stop when one of us wants to. No question asked, no hard feelings.”

Surprisingly, his words or their delivery seem to take Junhui and Soonyoung aback, but not Jihoon. Jihoon just throws him an encouraging smile like he understands where Wonwoo’s coming from. He’s also the first one to vocalise his assent, and the other two follow.

The rest of the night feels simultaneously shorter and longer than the first evening. Wonwoo remembers everything and also nothing at all from the moment Junhui kisses Soonyoung in front of him to the moment they end up nothing more than a heap of sweaty bodies and entangled limbs.

“I can get used to this,” Jihoon huffs against Wonwoo’s rib, fingers splayed over the length of his diaphragm. His nails are some of the prettiest Wonwoo has ever seen.

Wonwoo’s skin is warm under Jihoon’s touch and he doesn’t need to ask what _this_ means.

🔥🔥🔥🔥

Over the next couple of months, _this_ becomes a recurrence.

🔥🔥🔥🔥

Sometimes, Wonwoo would get a text from Jihoon that consist of nothing but an address. He’d willingly go where the red pin on his navigation app shows, not knowing whether it would be a slaughterhouse or a new cafe Jihoon wants to try out. Thankfully, today it appears to be the latter.

He takes the table by the window and orders a latte while waiting for Jihoon, who shows up not long after. He waves at Wonwoo when he walks through the door, strides to where he’s sitting, and bends down to plant one on him. Wonwoo’s surprised, less at the suddenness of the kiss and more at the way he instinctively closes his eyes when Jihoon’s warm lips come to rest above his.

Jihoon rarely ever kisses _him_. Soonyoung, sure. Junhui, obviously—he’s even gotten more comfortable doing that in front of Soonyoung and Wonwoo of late. But not Wonwoo. He can count the number of times he’s done that with one hand, actually, and they were always in the middle of sex. Last time Wonwoo checks, he’s still fully clothed, and so is Jihoon.

Jihoon quickly notices the attention Wonwoo’s giving him upon separation and rubs the back of his neck, awkward. The scraping sound is similar to the one Junhui’s teeth makes when they skim over Soonyoung’s collarbone, and Wonwoo fights a futile battle against the growing pool of heat in his belly.

“Sorry, uh.” Jihoon’s voice is soft, a shade hesitant. “Habit?” he offers, making Wonwoo raise an eyebrow. “I kiss the other two in greeting. It’s easy to forget you’re not—”

He pulls Jihoon down by the lapel of his suit before he’s through with his sentence, taking precaution not to crumple his work attire too badly, and kisses him on the mouth again.

The rest of Jihoon’s explanation gets stolen by the sweep of Wonwoo’s tongue over his bottom lip. He doesn’t open up against him, but Wonwoo takes no offence to that. They’re in public, in broad daylight, and Wonwoo’s playing with fire enough as it is.

“Hey,” Wonwoo greets him when they part.

The crimson hue blooming beautifully across Jihoon’s otherwise pale cheeks is a colour Wonwoo wish he can pluck out of his body and transfer onto a palette. He wouldn’t know what to do with it, of course, but he’d find an artist who does and ask them to create a masterpiece with it.

“Hi.”

“You’re blushing.”

Wonwoo’s never had this effect on Jihoon before. It makes him feel all-powerful.

“Keen observation there, Sherlock Holmes,” Jihoon says, pulling out the chair to finally sit down. “Anything interesting on the menu?”

🔥🔥🔥🔥

Wonwoo concludes his weekly Valorant session with Junhui at half-past twelve. Junhui calls it a night after losing three consecutive 1v1 sessions to him, grumbling something about Wonwoo being a cheat for using the combination of his flash and teleportation ability to first blind then appear right behind Junhui’s character, swiftly eliminating him while his screen shows nothing but white.

 _Stop stabbing me in the back, you Korean Brutus!_ he had protested, frustration gradually building with every point that goes to Wonwoo.

At the end of their play, Junhui tells him to rest well and adds a playful _kiss Soonyoung-ah good night for me_. Wonwoo disconnects the call with an unwavering smile. He turns off his PC before making his way to the bedroom, where he expects to find Soonyoung stretched out in bed, watching videos on his phone while waiting for him. Yet, there are no signs for his boyfriend.

Wonwoo frowns. He walks down the hallway and sees the light from the living room before he makes the turn around the corner. Sure enough, Soonyoung is sitting cross-legged on the couch, squinting his eyes at the laptop propped on his lap.

He seems to sense Wonwoo’s presence in the room with him, because he begins talking without turning around to address Wonwoo directly.

“I have to revise this proposal,” he motions to the document he has open with a limp wave of his hand, “because the higher-ups reallocated the budget and now nothing fits anymore so I—”

“Baby,” Wonwoo coaxes, placing his hands on Soonyoung’s shoulder and applying mild pressure over the knotted up muscles, “I don’t think you can’t do any more work tonight.”

Soonyoung sighs, lashes fluttering as he exhales. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“Let’s go to bed, then. Hm?”

“Only if you carry me.”

He chuckles softly in response, then reaches around Soonyoung to save his file before pulling his screen down. The laptop closes with a small thump. “That I can do, my prince of stars.”

Wonwoo only receives half a suppressed smile for using the term of endearment, though he takes no offence as Soonyoung yields to his request all the same.

The moment Soonyoung zips up his work bag with his laptop secured inside, Wonwoo loops his arms around Soonyoung’s armpits to lift him up over the back of the couch. Soonyoung goes, completely pliant under Wonwoo’s mindful handling of his body. His arms wind around Wonwoo’s neck as Wonwoo moves one hand from Soonyoung’s arm to support his legs.

Soonyoung takes a few deep inhales while Wonwoo is navigating them to their bedroom. His steps are steady but slow, because as lithe as Soonyoung may seem standing up on his own, the strength contained in his body has a tangible mass.

“You smell so good,” he whispers, nose buried in the hollow of Wonwoo’s throat.

“It’s our soap, Soonyoung,” Wonwoo points out as he disposes him above the mattress. However he smells, it’s likely to be far different from Soonyoung.

“I know. You smell like me. I like that.”

Lying down next to Soonyoung is a natural act for him, muscle memory and all that. Wonwoo’s heart might be the one organ in his entire body that remains unused to the decrease in distance between the two of them, as it traitorously skips a beat when Soonyoung’s smile forms against his jawline. Wonwoo reaches down to squeeze his boyfriend’s ass just to be cheeky, but Soonyoung shudders in his embrace and straightaway looks up at Wonwoo like he’s been caught with one hand inside the forbidden cookie jar.

“What?” asks Wonwoo.

“Nothing.”

“That wasn’t nothing?”

“It’s—” Soonyoung gnaws at his bottom lip, hesitant in delivering his answer. “Last time... Junhui might have left a mark.”

“A mark,” Wonwoo echoes after him. He doesn’t quite understand what Soonyoung means. “What kind of mark?”

His boyfriend flushes a deep crimson colour before elaborating, “A bite mark.” Soonyoung confesses this in a low whisper even though there’s only two of them in the room, as if he doesn’t want the surrounding air to know that his body bears a lasting impression of Junhui’s.

“He _bit_ you?” Wonwoo questions, half incredulous, the other half… aroused? He quickly moves down the bed, wanting to confirm the existence of the mark for himself. “Okay, I gotta see this.”

“Won—no, ah, wait,” Soonyoung wiggles around as Wonwoo pulls his shorts down past the swell of his ass. “Babe—“

“Oh.”

Soonyoung was indeed using the term _bite mark_ accurately. It’s not the small nip Wonwoo initially thought it to be. Frankly, it’s nowhere near something as gentle as that, and to describe it as such would be an extreme understatement. Wonwoo can easily attribute each purple crater on Soonyoung’s right cheek to Junhui’s individual tooth. A fucking complete dental impression, that’s what this is.

The mark is nothing short of a brave claim staked on Soonyoung, intended to taunt the person who dared came after: Wonwoo. Junhui must have known he would see this sooner or later. What a mind game he’s playing on all of them, a skilful puppet master tugging at their strings. At least Jihoon’s intentions always flash in bright neon signs above his head.

“Holy shit, Soonyoung-ah… does it hurt? It looks like it hurts.”

Soonyoung huffs a little. “I asked for it, and it probably looks worse than it is. He’s got some sharp teeth, though.”

He traces around the mark with his pointer finger, stopping momentarily at the two slightly deeper indentations that must have come from Junhui’s upper canines. “I can see that.”

“Don’t be upset with him. It was my birthday and I wanted him to.”

“I’m not upset,” Wonwoo says, distracted with outlining the mark with his finger again. “With you or him.”

“Will you—” Soonyoung props himself up on his elbow, frowning at Wonwoo, “stop touching it, please? You’re going to get me all worked up.”

“Is that so?”

He descends, kissing the sensitive skin right next to the mark but not quite on top of it. Despite the tenderness of the ministration Soonyoung instantly tenses, although he relaxes just as quickly as Wonwoo withdraws his face from his ass. Obviously, that means Wonwoo has to repeat the action, going in a clockwise direction around the reddened imprint. Soonyoung exhales slowly with every kiss he gifts, then Wonwoo decides to fit his own teeth over the mark, gently nibbling on the flesh where Junhui had carved his claim.

A low groan filtered its way out of Soonyoung’s throat.

It shouldn’t be this enticing—the prospect of another man asserting ownership of what is supposed to be Wonwoo’s and Wonwoo’s alone, but then Soonyoung’s spine curves and he’s all but pushing his back against Wonwoo’s face, and Wonwoo forgoes what little objection he’s supposed to have to lick his rim sloppily.

“Wonwoo-yah…” he hears Soonyoung’s breathless call from above. “Enough, please. Why are you riling me up when you have no intention of following through? It’s mean.”

Wonwoo laughs and kisses the base of his spine, making his way up along Soonyoung’s toned back until he reaches his lover’s nape. Soonyoung tips his face forward in a wordless request, and Wonwoo complies wholeheartedly, capturing his mouth in a sweet kiss.

“Can I eat you out?” he asks against Soonyoung’s lips. “It always helps you sleep better.”

They twitch at the offer and Wonwoo’s rationale for it, because Soonyoung’s body is always honest with him, all of his emotions displayed for Wonwoo to see like masterpieces hanged on the walls of a museum. There’s no sleight of hand, no tricks. Just them.

“If you tease,” Soonyoung warns with a growl that doesn’t fool anybody, “I will sue you for intentional infliction of emotional distress.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“Please.”

“You need to rinse first?”

Soonyoung pinches his nose, playful. “I showered before.”

Wonwoo kisses him one more time, a chaste peck. “Let’s get you a condom then.”

“Get yourself one too, cowboy,” says Soonyoung, patting his back as Wonwoo leans over his form to ransack their nightstand. “You should quit acting like you last any longer than I do.”

He chooses to ignore the smart comeback and makes quick work of grabbing the necessary items instead. Wonwoo rolls Soonyoung’s condom down his cock with his mouth, careful to keep his teeth away to avoid tearing the latex, then flips Soonyoung on his stomach. The bite mark stares at him as he pats the back of Soonyoung’s thighs in signal, moving closer as Soonyoung raises his ass in the air, ready for the taking.

It doesn’t go unnoticed, the way Soonyoung shivers the moment Wonwoo spreads him open, thumb pressing into the sensitive flesh. He almost can’t resist the temptation to bite Soonyoung on the other cheek, leaving his signature alongside Junhui’s—but Soonyoung calls his name in supplication and Wonwoo catalogues the thought away.

Another time.

Wonwoo sticks his tongue out for an experimental lick across his rim that has Soonyoung burying a mewl into the pillow. He smiles against Soonyoung’s cleft, earning a disgruntled warning to stop teasing from his boyfriend. Well, he supposes it’s only fair that he plays nice tonight, considering how hard Soonyoung has worked today and how badly he needed a good night’s sleep.

Through years of experience, he’s found the perfect combination of tongue and lips to have Soonyoung’s toes curling in no time. Expletives pour out of his mouth the way sunlight drips into their bedroom in the morning, an intrusive pool of pale yellow on the tiled floor. Soonyoung's loud because it's the way he loves to be, the way Wonwoo loves him to be, and because having a corner apartment with an empty unit next door allowed them the luxury of not having to worry about making a ruckus during sex.

Wonwoo’s desire is spurred on by the increasingly ragged breathing filling the room and Soonyoung’s staccato affirmations of _yes. there. please._ Wonwoo jerks himself off when he knows Soonyoung is nearing the end.

He feels spit pooling at the corner of his mouth, dribbling down to his chin, but Wonwoo doesn’t care. His thumb caresses the dent left by one of Junhui’s canines and Wonwoo swears he can sense his best friend in the room with them, nodding in approval while Jihoon watches to the side, lips curled in amusement of Wonwoo’s personal brand of childish competitiveness.

“Wonu, I’m coming. I’m co—coming,” Soonyoung pants brokenly, clenching around Wonwoo’s tongue as his body goes taught like the string of a drawn bow.

“Come, baby,” he responds in a hoarse voice that seems to only bring Soonyoung closer to his orgasm.

Diving back in, Wonwoo takes perfect aim and set the arrow loose, watching it hit the bullseye as Soonyoung falls apart on his tongue.

🔥🔥🔥🔥

One random Monday has Wonwoo waking up in a bed that’s far too big to be his, in a room with way too little natural sunlight to ever be Soonyoung’s. He stretches his limb above the mattress, the sheets somehow still warm despite Wonwoo being the only one left wrapped in them. The faint sound of running water tells him at least one of the other three is still here, and if he has to guess, it would be Jihoon.

Aside from Wonwoo, he’s the one with the more flexible schedule out of all four. Plus, Soonyoung had sleepily mumbled something about a morning presentation last night, though it was hard for him to hear most of his sentence with Junhui and Jihoon’s bodies separating them; an ocean of bare skin glistening with sheen.

After a few quiet moments of collecting himself, Wonwoo makes his way to the ensuite bathroom. True enough, Jihoon stands in front of the sink with nothing but a dark towel around his waist to cover his modesty. He casts Wonwoo a side glance, but doesn’t stop brushing his teeth. Wonwoo leans against the door and waits for him to finish, watches Jihoon spit into the sink and straighten up again, the muscles on his back rippling with the motions.

“You’ve got a hickey,” Wonwoo points out, coming to stand next to Jihoon.

The purple discolouration stands a conspicuous highlight against the backdrop of Jihoon’s pale complexion. It was really the thing that captured Wonwoo’s attention other than the long, straight lines someone’s nails left down his back. He really ought to go out more often, Wonwoo thinks, but he doesn’t say the thought aloud.

“Ah, where?”

“Here,” he lifts a finger to press at the nape of Jihoon’s neck, “give me your concealer, I’ll do it for you.”

In the palm of his extended hand, Jihoon places a small, transparent tub. Jihoon cants his head to the side to allow him access and Wonwoo gently smears the liquid evenly over the mark, not wanting to apply unwanted pressure on the tender flesh.

Jihoon’s chest rises and falls with his breathing. “Must’ve been Soonyoung. I banned Junhui from leaving marks a long time ago.”

 _Did you know he started leaving them on Soonyoung?_ , Wonwoo wants to ask him, but doesn’t.

“Sorry,” he apologises instead. Though Jihoon doesn’t sound upset over the fact, Wonwoo figures he’s still owed an apology. “He gets carried away sometimes, but that’s just because he’s really into it.”

He takes a step back to assess the appearance of the now covered hickey under the bathroom lighting and deems it appropriate enough. Jihoon’s shirt will cover it well anyway, the cosmetic merely serves as an additional precaution.

“Into you,” adds Wonwoo, sweet icing on the cake.

Everyone does things for a reason, says words for a purpose. Wonwoo’s is to receive the gift of sight: witnessing the way the tips of Jihoon’s ears turn red even as his face remains devoid of any emotion. Jihoon clears his throat and turns his body to the right, trying to see Wonwoo’s handiwork in the bathroom mirror to avoid having to come up with a reply. Needless to say, he fails miserably in his attempt.

“Well, I can’t see enough to say you’ve done a good job, but thanks.” Wonwoo simply smiles at him. Jihoon avoids meeting his eyes at all cost, ransacking the drawer next to the sink instead, looking for something. “By the way, we bought these the other day.”

“What is—” He looks down and sees a couple of toothbrush holders Jihoon’s shoved in his hand. They’re the small, oval-shaped ones made of wood, maybe bamboo. There’s an opening at the top to insert the end of the handle in. “Oh.”

“You and Soonyoung can use them if you guys want,” Jihoon hands them over to him. “We thought it might get annoying having to pack your toothbrush every time you stay over, so you can leave spare ones here.”

Wonwoo doesn’t know the right thing to say here, or the name of the thing currently lodged in his throat, but somehow he manages a small, “Thanks.”

“No problem. I’ll probably be out before you finish showering, just make sure you lock the door behind you, yeah?”

“Sure.”

An awkward pause. Jihoon raises his eyebrow at Wonwoo’s curt responses, as if asking a wordless question Wonwoo’s sleep-addled brain can't decipher. Wonwoo stares back at him.

“I’m not kissing you,” Jihoon eventually says.

“What?”

“I’m not kissing you before you brush your teeth, in case that’s what you were expecting.” Is that the conclusion Jihoon draws from whatever look marred Wonwoo’s face? “Not a big fan of morning breath.”

“Alright, Jihoon.”

“Ah, fine,” he leans up a little to brush his mouth against Wonwoo’s cheek, “but only because you’re kinda cute when sleep deprived.”

Jihoon leaves without another word, the cold ghost of his lips lingering over Wonwoo’s warm post-wake skin. He only snaps out of it when he hears the bedroom door close, which must have been a good minute or two after Jihoon’s departure.

When Wonwoo turns to look at himself in the mirror, his shirt his hanging off his right shoulder, dark strands of hair sticking out in thirteen different directions. The front of his shirt is damp with drool he’s half-sure doesn’t belong to him.

Well. Jihoon needs his eyes checked if he thinks Wonwoo looks _cute_ this way. Even Soonyoung would probably skirt around him, hissing in disapproval over Wonwoo’s current state like a petulant cat.

Wonwoo leaves the toothbrush holders next to the same ones that hold Junhui and Jihoon’s. He decides to process whatever that was just now after he takes a cold shower.

🔥🔥🔥🔥

He didn’t process it.

Not even close.

The only thing Wonwoo did was file what happened in the _not urgent, not important_ square of his Eisenhower matrix. It was sequestered away momentarily by the power of sheer stubbornness. Soonyoung said nothing when they accepted the other couple’s kindness and left their new toothbrushes in the brand new holders, which was all the more reason for Wonwoo not to look too much into it.

Alas, some things can only be delayed, not avoided. The confrontation came to ambush him at the most inconvenient of times—or the most fitting, depending on who you ask.

He’s in the middle of kissing Soonyoung, his boyfriend’s fingers wrapped loosely around his cock, giving Wonwoo lazy strokes because he’s too distracted to deliver anything else. Jihoon’s mouth maps Soonyoung’s bare body thoroughly, and he seems to have a particular direction in his exploration: south. Soonyoung’s back arches at the kiss placed at the crown of his dick, causing him to gasp away from Wonwoo’s mouth.

“F-fuck,” Jihoon pants heavily, resting his forehead on Soonyoung’s left thigh when Junhui’s fingers hit all the right spots inside. “Junhui, I’m—”

There’s no need for him to finish his sentence. Junhui understands exactly what he means from what little he says and picks up his speed, causing Jihoon’s persistent ministrations on Soonyoung to falter. Wonwoo wonders why, when Soonyoung starts trailing kisses along the line of his jaw, that he’s more compelled to watch Jihoon’s strong resistance crumble under Junhui’s skilful fingers. He wants to be there to see it happen, wants to see a phenomenon unlike any other. Soonyoung must have thought the same, because his damp cheek rests against Wonwoo’s own, and together they watch Jihoon paint the terracotta linen sheet beneath him with his release.

It takes a good minute or two for his legs to stop quivering altogether, and when they do Jihoon immediately yanks Junhui’s face to his by the silver necklace around his neck, kissing him hard enough for Wonwoo to hear the gnashing of their teeth together. He shoves Junhui away as roughly as he had pulled him in, and dives for Soonyoung, his eyes a pair of bottomless chasms.

Junhui laughs in earnest before crawling up to Wonwoo, carefully manoeuvring himself around Jihoon. Their gazes lock, but Wonwoo doesn’t move in to kiss him. Not because he’s never had the occasional thought of kissing Junhui throughout his adolescence, not because he didn’t jerk off to the taste of Junhui’s tongue on his own or the image of him licking the mole above his top lip last week, not because he’s afraid of breaking the spell if he does. He doesn’t kiss Junhui because it’s him who surges forward—his _best friend_ —and when the distance between their lips becomes nonexistent, Wonwoo’s world goes off-kilter.

He feels Junhui’s teeth skimming his bottom lip and a faded memory jumps out at him, resurrected by the pressure.

At fourteen, Wonwoo had come down with a bad case of stomach bug, and it left him on bed rest for a week after his hospital discharge. Junhui came every day without fail, staying longer than it was necessary to deliver Wonwoo’s missed school work.

“Why can’t I just stay with you?” Junhui had huffed when it was time for him to go home. His mother had called three times already.

Wonwoo managed a weak smile and said, “You know I’m fine right, Jun-ah? You’re just using this as an excuse to skip class.”

This was perhaps the first instance that Wonwoo found the fire in his eyes to be scorching. “That’s not true,” Junhui declared hotly, then he stormed out of Wonwoo’s room without saying goodbye.

Fearing that his playful remark had somehow offended Junhui, Wonwoo prepared a sincere apology for the next day. It was all for nothing, because moment Junhui sat down by his bed he immediately pulled a pocket knife out of his bag instead of Wonwoo’s Algebra worksheet. There was nothing Wonwoo could do but sputter in surprise.

“What—what are you _doing_?” He’d be lying if he said the sight of Junhui holding a knife so close to his face didn’t make his heart hammer against his ribcage.

“I figured out a way to stay with you,” Junhui had answered laxly, and Wonwoo didn’t understand what he truly meant until he had finished engraving his name on the wooden headboard of his bed.

 _Moon Jun Hwi_ , the characters read. He wondered why Junhui didn’t just use pinyin when Wonwoo could recognise his name anywhere, even if it was created clumsily with the sharp end of a deadly weapon. Wonwoo never told Junhui this, but he slept much better that night, waking up with enough strength to go downstairs and eat breakfast by himself.

Junhui’s teeth sink into his bottom lip. Wonwoo wants to ask him a question.

_Do you remember when you got scolded for vandalising my bed? Afterwards, you told me you didn’t care, because I was your best friend and you wanted to be with me. Always._

Wonwoo slips his tongue in the gap between Junhui's lips. He frames his jaw and maps the hot roof of Junhui’s mouth, his moans disappearing down Wonwoo's throat. It’s when he traces the upper row of his teeth that Wonwoo recalls the proprietorial mark they had left on Soonyoung’s body. Recalls how it made him feel, to trace the outline.

_Is that why you bit him? Are these teeth the knife of your choosing, to once again carve your place by my side?_

Then, Junhui pulls back to gasp for air and Wonwoo makes the fatal mistake of looking to his side. He knows fully well this image will burn into his mind; a red-hot branding iron of recollection.

Soonyoung’s chest is splotched all over with kiss marks, it no longer distinguishable which one belongs to whom. In turn, Jihoon has Soonyoung’s length in his mouth, taking him so deep that his nose touches the sparse dark hairs at the base of Soonyoung’s cock, and Soonyoung reaches down not to bury his fingers in Jihoon’s hair but to hold his hand, fingers looping tightly right over his protruding hipbone.

He hears Junhui panting heavily into his ear, then his lube-slicked fingers squeeze Wonwoo’s erection. Each stroke brings Wonwoo to the end, and at the very last moment, right before he crosses the finish line, Junhui nuzzles into his cheek. Wonwoo forcefully drags his gaze away from Soonyoung and Jihoon to kiss him again, spilling flames into Junhui’s hand as he is bid.

A small yet clear voice resonates inside Wonwoo’s head through the hazy aftershock.

Perhaps, it says, Junhui’s teeth isn’t the knife.

Perhaps the knife is Jihoon.


	2. relying on the light of a candle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s not that,” he says slowly, not wanting to scare Jihoon off. Or Junhui. “This is… steering away from just sex.”
> 
> Junhui immediately laughs to diffuse the tension, but he sounds painfully awkward. “Well,” he clears his throat, “there goes our shot at not acknowledging that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmm i don't know if this is important nor can i find a way to... somehow make them talk about it within the story but in case it's a detail anyone is interested in: junhui's a software engineer, soonyoung works in an event management companies, wonwoo in journalism and jihoon in real estate <3
> 
> apologies for mistakes!!

When Junhui threads his fingers through his honey-coloured bangs for the nth time in the ten minutes Wonwoo’s sat next to him, he curls a hand around Junhui’s wrist to get him to settle down.

“Your hair looks fine, stop fussing.” Wonwoo doesn’t know why he’s antsy, but it’s certainly making him nervous by association. “You’re always this way after a trim.”

“I know it’s fine!” Junhui huffs, shaking his hand to remove Wonwoo’s loose grip. “Soonyoung said the cut is pretty.”

“Okay.” The hair is just a distraction, then. “What’s up?”

He glances at Wonwoo briefly before averting his gaze downward, staring at his lap to avoid Wonwoo's inquisitive look. Junhui gets like this when he feels guilty about something, but to the best of Wonwoo’s knowledge, he hadn't done anything thing to warrant this behaviour.

“If Jihoon ignores me later,” says Junhui, a quiet little thing, “it’s because I got into an argument with him this morning.”

“About our thing?”

Wonwoo he realises a second too late that he probably shouldn’t have asked that.

“What?” Junhui’s head snaps up. “No. We don’t fight about— _no_.”

“Oh, okay. I’m glad.”

“I misplaced the bracelet he gave me,” he elaborates, waving his undecorated hand around. “Pretty sure I just took it off to shower, but it wasn’t above the sink when I came back out.”

The plain, delicate rose-gold band has always adorned Junhui’s wrist since the day Jihoon gifted it to him. Their anniversary date is engraved on the inside. Jihoon’s got a matching one of his own, and if Junhui indeed misplaced his, Wonwoo can understand why Jihoon is giving him the cold shoulder for it.

The couple bracelet’s gotten some company in the last year, courtesy to Junhui’s mother who made each of them a red charm meant to bring good luck. Except to avoid getting it wet, Soonyoung makes a point of never taking his off. Wonwoo suspects it has something to do with the fond smile Junhui gives him whenever he sees the familiar red threads on Soonyoung. Once or twice, he’s caught Junhui slipping a finger beneath the bracelet to feel Soonyoung’s pulse when fucking into the tight heat between his legs, hips circling with a clear purpose.

“It’s probably behind the drawer,” Wonwoo suggests, “there’s a small space there that you tend to miss if you’re not looking. I drop my ring there all the time when I take it off to wash my face.”

Raising his eyebrows, Junhui looks mildly impressed with Wonwoo’s ability to memorise the obscure nooks and crannies of his apartment. “You’re right. I’ll look there later.”

And that should be the end of the conversation, if not for the fact that Wonwoo has absolute shit impulse control.

“So… you don’t have fights about us?”

“Do _you_ have fights with Soonyoung?”

“No.”

“Then why would you assume Jihoon and I do?”

“I didn’t assume anything, I was just asking.”

Junhui stares at him closely as if Wonwoo is an enigma he’s destined to solve. “We only had one fight that remotely relates to you and Soonyoung, and that was a long time ago.” He’s resumed messing with his bangs again. Wonwoo wants to kiss him to make it stop. “Like, before we were official, I think.”

“What about?”

“Jihoon was jealous.”

Oh, well, that’s nothing new. Junhui’s partners before Jihoon had gone through the same phase he did. Only a few of them survived the battle of accepting Wonwoo’s permanent role in Junhui’s life, but they don’t talk about the matter often. It always went a little like this: the person Junhui was dating scowled at Wonwoo in distaste one day, and the next thing he knew they were no longer dating Junhui. Junhui would say they weren’t a good match. Wonwoo would wordlessly set up his game console and let Junhui slay him for a couple of rounds to feel better about the situation.

“Ah,” Wonwoo nods in understanding, “of me. I get that.”

“No?" Junhui frowns. "Of Soonyoung.”

Alright. Hold up. Rewind. He does not get _that_.

“Why… is that?”

“Man, I can’t remember,” Junhui leans back in his chair. The fingers that were mussing up his hair are now vigorously tapping the surface of the table; one nervous tick in exchange for another. “It was so long ago. The only thing I remembered was Jihoon said I was looking at Soonyoung _lovingly_.”

“Were you?”

There’s a moment of contemplation before Junhui shrugs his shoulders and answers, “Probably.”

“Hey,” Jihoon appears behind Wonwoo then, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “Are we waiting for someone?” he asks, pulling out a chair. No acknowledgement of Junhui’s presence whatsoever—Jihoon even moves his hand out of the way when Junhui makes a move to reach for it.

Junhui exhales sharply, indignant.

“I’m ignoring his existence for the time being,” Jihoon mentions to Wonwoo. “So?”

“What about Soonyoung's? Are you ignoring his, too?” Junhui pipes hotly, pointing to the empty chair next to him. “He’s not here yet.”

“Oh, I thought he called you. One of his vendors for this weekend called about some unfortunate mishap and he has to do some damage control, so he can’t join us.”

Wonwoo wonders if he’ll grow desensitised to revelations like these if they keep coming at him without reprieve.

“He texted you? I haven’t heard from him since morning.”

“It was a voice message. Sounded like he was running, so I reminded him to eat and told him not to reply anymore. I didn’t want him falling down,” Jihoon explains, his tone more cautious than necessary. It’s not like Wonwoo was accusing him of doing something bad, but Jihoon looks like he’s wrongfully crossed an invisible line. “Wonwoo, I was probably just at the top of the message list. I didn’t have much to do at work so I sent him some Tiktok videos I thought he’d like, that’s all.”

“You sent him Tiktok videos?” Junhui wonders aloud, voicing the question inside Wonwoo’s mind. “Voluntarily?”

Jihoon’s guards have lowered enough for him to spare Junhui a glance. “It’s not a big deal.” He turns to Wonwoo again. “Really, it’s not a big deal.”

 _You_ are _the knife_ , Wonwoo realises as he drinks in the details of Jihoon’s worried expression. _I was right before. You are the knife. Do you realise it? The power you hold?_

The Jihoon who didn’t sleep with them wouldn’t have entertained Soonyoung to that extent. He wouldn’t have entertained Soonyoung at all. His electronic correspondences to Soonyoung were strictly limited to _Yes_ and _No_ and _Happy birthday, Soonyoung_. Soonyoung used to complain about how Jihoon didn’t seem to like him all that much.

Used to being the keyword.

Wonwoo knows this with full certainty: the only reason Jihoon has that cursed application that takes 30 minutes of Soonyoung’s sleep time every night downloaded on his phone is because of Soonyoung. Jihoon’s not a cold person, he’s the furthest thing from one, but he is reserved with his affections. After all, it was the rule he chose to set, wasn’t it? That their arrangement is kept exclusive. Jihoon gives a select few everything he has instead of handing out small, insignificant slivers of him to a lot of people.

“It’s not that,” he says slowly, not wanting to scare Jihoon off. Or Junhui. “This is… steering away from just sex.”

Junhui immediately laughs to diffuse the tension. It comes out painfully awkward.

“Well,” he clears his throat, “there goes our shot at not acknowledging that.”

His friend offers Wonwoo nothing but a weak smile when their eyes meet. Then, as if they’re a unicellular organism making the conscious decision on the next course of action, they turn to Jihoon together, matching hopeful expressions written on their faces.

“What do we do?” asks Wonwoo.

“The two of you,” Jihoon pinches the bridge of his nose, “stop looking at me as if I have the answer.”

Silence falls over them like a heavy blanket as the gravity of the situation sinks in. Junhui taps his fingers against the surface of the table, the sounds unreasonably loud in Wonwoo’s ears this time around. Jihoon’s scratching the back of his neck and Wonwoo has to fight the urge to trap one of his middle knuckles in between his teeth. A server walks in the direction of their table, presumably to ask if they’re ready to order, and makes a 180 turn once they notice the palpable tension in the air.

“You cowards,” Junhui mutters under his breath. He raises the volume of his voice to declare, “I want it.”

“It?” Jihoon prompts.

“Us,” he nods, firm. The brave one once again. “All four of us.”

“And what is it you want?”

“To acknowledge it, at least.” Junhui makes a vague gesture around the table, trying to persuade the other two men into sharing his point of view. Wonwoo wonders if he knows not much convincing is necessary to achieve this goal of his. “That there are some feelings involved now. I mean, it’s new—I don’t know where it would lead, none of us does, but let’s put it out there that we’re walking the path.”

“I’m in.”

See? How many sentences did it take to get Jihoon on board? Two? Three?

“Wonwoo?”

“Soonyoung isn’t here."

He remembers Soonyoung’s rule, too, would never dream of forgetting it. _Together or not at all_. Wonwoo’s yet to decide which of the two options he wants, but he’ll have time to think about his stance before they talk to Soonyoung about it. In a way, his decision also depends on what Soonyoung has to say.

“Yeah. Okay,” Junhui acknowledges. “Of course. It has to be a unanimous decision. So… then, we need to bring Soonyoung into the loop.”

🔥🔥🔥🔥

It's funny.

The last time they sat around Junhui and Jihoon’s dining table like this, they were about to start something that might just be ending tonight. Junhui does the most talking, Jihoon keeps his eyes trained on Soonyoung's side profile as his boyfriend powers through his sentences. Wonwoo doesn’t know if the other two can interpret his body language now, but with every subsequent word Junhui utters, despite his careful pronunciation and coaxing tone, Soonyoung inches closer to rejection. He witnesses all the telltale signs.

Soonyoung's jaw is set tight, thick swallows made with concealed effort. His hands are tight fists above his thighs. As soon as the final note of Junhui's last sentence exits the air, he looks over to Wonwoo and it’s there in his eyes, on his lips, at the tip of his tongue. Extinguished hope tastes like a lot like bile rising to his throat, and it’s ironic that Wonwoo only figures out what he wants when Soonyoung is about to say otherwise.

Dreams of what could have been slip through the spaces in between his fingers like soft, golden particles of sand.

He tries to smile. It must have been a weak attempt, because Soonyoung wrenches his gaze away like it pains him to look at Wonwoo right now.

“I need to think about it.” He brings his hand above the table, flexing it over the surface and tracing the grain lines with his fingers. Wonwoo breathes and suffocates at the same time. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” says Junhui, but it’s hard to believe him when he looks the most crestfallen Wonwoo has ever seen him. Jihoon’s staring past the open balcony and at the Seoul glittering skyline. “Of course you can think about it. Right?”

“Yes, of course,” Wonwoo answers. Jihoon waits a beat longer before he offers a, “Yeah.”

Soonyoung gets up from his seat and Wonwoo follows, brain operating solely on autopilot and muscle memory when it comes to him. “I think we should leave. For now.”

Without waiting for anyone’s answer, Soonyoung breezes past Wonwoo and makes a beeline for the door. Wonwoo stares at the empty space where he stood just moments before, the air still warm with his presence, and braves a glance in Junhui’s direction. He’s just in time to see Jihoon kissing his temple, resting his forehead against Junhui’s cheek when he pulls away.

“I’ll call you,” says Wonwoo.

“Okay,” Junhui replies, yet it feels anything but that.

The drive back to their apartment is spent in silence. Soonyoung puts his seatbelt on and looks out the window the entire time, clearly unwilling to entertain a conversation with Wonwoo. He’s not sure if they caught him in a bad time—Soonyoung did just finish a big project yesterday and they’re already springing a major decision on him—but Wonwoo has to learn to deal with the fact that even on the best day, this might still be Soonyoung’s reaction.

Soonyoung kisses him on the lips before they sleep. Just once, gently. It feels wrong, as though it's meant to be an apology. Wonwoo isn’t fast enough to reel him close before Soonyoung rolls the other way, brandishing his back to Wonwoo and pulling their blanket over his shoulders. The narrow mattress is suddenly the size of a continent, and Wonwoo can only stare at his boyfriend’s still figure for what feels like hours. The distance between their bodies is a separation Wonwoo never thought would exist, considering Soonyoung’s rationale for buying a bed that barely fits them was so they could sleep on top of each other every night.

He slips into a dreamless slumber lulled by Soonyoung’s soft breathing.

🔥🔥🔥🔥

Once, when they were still Soonyoung-Wonwoo and Junhui-Jihoon separately, they prolonged a dinner night by checking out a new club downtown Junhui heard about from his coworker. Soonyoung was bouncing on his literal heels the entire time they were waiting in line, already tipsy from two glasses of red wine he insisted on having with his steak, so Wonwoo stood close by in case he lost his balance.

Don’t get him wrong, the boots were wonderful on Soonyoung. They brought him to Wonwoo’s height, which made for a fresh kissing experience. Plus, Wonwoo had no complaints about how they dig into his spine almost painfully when he thrust into Soonyoung as he was still wearing them. They'd leave bruises Wonwoo could never see properly, but ones Soonyoung would carefully apply gel on, blowing air over them before he’d go down on Wonwoo. Still, no matter how much Wonwoo actually liked them, they were a fall hazard for an intoxicated Soonyoung.

Soonyoung’s body swayed without warning. Wonwoo readily shot an arm to steady him by the waist, but Junhui’s reflexes were much faster. He had already yanked Soonyoung forward by the forearm before he leaned back far enough to need Wonwoo’s support. Soonyoung bonelessly crashed onto Junhui’s chest, giggling, and Junhui giggled back as he helped Soonyoung straighten up again. Their eyes met. The air became charged with tension, the scales threatening to tip in one direction.

A strange feeling that wasn’t quite jealousy manifested inside his chest. Wonwoo didn’t get the chance to think much about what it was, as the next thing Soonyoung did was reach for him, licking across the seam of Wonwoo's lips as he pressed their bodies together. He could taste the earthy aftertaste of his wine as Soonyoung sighed against his mouth like he was drunk on Wonwoo.

That unnamed moment between Soonyoung and Junhui wasn't what Wonwoo remembered most about that night. It wasn’t Soonyoung’s major hangover the next day, the vivid images of him begging on his knees for Wonwoo to make him feel anything but the headache and the sour stomach for _just a little while, Wonu please please please get inside me please I want it_ with those bright, irresistible eyes of his. It wasn’t accidentally catching Junhui with his lips latched onto Jihoon’s neck in the dimmed club hallway leading to the restroom, fluorescent lights dancing across their skin, nor the way Jihoon seized Junhui’s hair roughly to bury a gasp in his mouth.

It was Jihoon’s nonchalant comment of, “They look good, huh,” while Soonyoung and Junhui were taking full command of the dance floor.

He knew the sound of his voice would have been drowned out no matter how much he tried to raise his volume. Wonwoo could feel how loud the music was playing with the way the floor vibrated underneath his feet, so he opted to nod instead of verbalising his agreement.

“You ever think about them together?”

He had. There was a time when Wonwoo thought Junhui needed to fuck the dance rivalry out of Soonyoung before they could become civil with one another. Or the other way around. But it never happened, and within a couple of weeks of them calling a truce, Junhui was pushing Soonyoung in Wonwoo’s direction.

Even years later, they were as spectacular a pair as they were back in college. Jihoon wasn’t there to see them then, but oh, how Wonwoo wished he were. Regardless of what song they danced to, their stage presence and charisma were unparalleled. Junhui had insane body control, execution always so sharp and precise. He never failed to make Wonwoo feel as though he was watching a battle sequence whenever he moved. Soonyoung transformed into a different person the second the lights dimmed; a phoenix taking its superlative form, wings alight with fire. Wonwoo was and still is a moth helplessly drawn to his flame.

Combine the two of them and it’s a sight powerful enough to bring the strongest warrior to their knees. He swallowed and turned to Jihoon, his pretty fingers dancing around the rim of a half-empty water bottle. Jihoon hadn’t consumed any alcohol for the night, which means there was no crediting his question to liquid courage. He put the question forward because he wanted to know the answer. Wonwoo wasn’t sure if it was okay to give it to him.

“Look,” Jihoon mouthed, pointing at the dance floor.

The sea of undulating bodies parted as though they heard Jihoon’s word and took it as a direct order. He had a clear line of sight to Soonyoung, who stood at the centre of the room with his back lined against Junhui’s chest. The breadth of Junhui’s hands was delicately placed on either side of his hips, guiding Soonyoung’s movement but not controlling it. His boyfriend lifted the bottle in his hand to Junhui’s mouth and slowed down his motion as Junhui took a large gulp, throwing his head back as the cool liquid passed through his throat. Junhui made a face at the bitter aftertaste of Soonyoung’s favourite beer and Soonyoung laughed at his expression, taking a swing for himself before his eyes caught Wonwoo’s.

Wonwoo remembered how his body had crackled with a certain kind of craving. Soonyoung’s hair was long enough to be permed then, and his loose jet-black curls were sweeping over his forehead. He looked at Wonwoo through them and blinked slowly, invitingly. Licked his lips in a way that was meant to tantalise Wonwoo.

Jihoon leaned up close enough for Wonwoo to hear his dulcet whisper over the house music, “I think water break’s over.”

He downed the rest of his water and sauntered toward them without checking whether Wonwoo followed after him. There was no need for the precautionary measure anyway, because Soonyoung kept his persistent gaze on Wonwoo until Wonwoo gravitated back into his space, replacing Junhui’s hands on his hips with his own.

🔥🔥🔥🔥

Mingyu’s a good twenty feet ahead of them, eagerly taking snapshots of the tall reeds surrounding him. Wonwoo can practically see his tail wagging behind him—that’s how much boyish enthusiasm he’s displaying. He waves at Minghao and Wonwoo to catch up with him, but Minghao gestures for him to go ahead and Mingyu relents, though not without a full pout on his lips.

Soonyoung has a venue survey he can't reschedule, so Wonwoo spends the Saturday third-wheeling Mingyu and Minghao while they go photo hunting. Wonwoo often comes along with them, but he’s never officially become a third wheel until today. Usually he’d wander around the location with his face pressed to the frame of his Nikon and do his own thing as time passes by without his notice. Minghao would come to collect him after—he’s always the one doing the collecting, because nobody can rely on Mingyu to check his watch once he's engrossed in an adventure.

Today, Wonwoo is third-wheeling, because since the moment he hops off Mingyu’s car, he hasn’t taken a single shot. His camera is not even turned on.

“So,” Minghao nudges Wonwoo’s shoulder with his own. “What’s wrong?”

“What? Nothing is wrong.”

“Ah, hyung, you'll have to try a little harder than that,” he says, incredibly patient with Wonwoo’s attempt to hide his internal turmoil. “I mean, you can fool Mingyu. That’s easy, no problem.” He intentionally pokes the soft flesh on the side of Wonwoo’s waist, teasing. “It's bad to lie to children, though.”

At that, Wonwoo laughs. Minghao patiently waits for him to come down from his amusement. 

“We slept with Junhui,” Wonwoo admits.

The younger man blinks slowly, as though the information Wonwoo relayed is difficult to digest. Minghao's met Junhui before, probably has him labelled as _Wonwoo-hyung’s obnoxious best friend_ in his mind. Junhui was slightly overeager to make Minghao's acquaintance, and he didn’t exactly leave the best first impression by sloshing a glass full of beer down Minghao’s branded shirt. Being the kind soul he is, Minghao still invited him to housewarming parties and the occasional hangouts. The poor circumstances of their initial encounter probably wounded Junhui’s pride more than it did Minghao’s.

“When Mingyu said you slept with someone else other than Soonyoung-hyung, I didn’t think it would be someone so... close.”

Wonwoo’s not at all surprised that Mingyu’s shared that with Minghao. Chatterbox, remember? Besides, Mingyu’s body probably starts to itch if the content of his brain isn’t synced up with Minghao’s at all times.

“Yeah.”

“Doesn’t he have a partner?”

Right. Jihoon never came once around to the events Minghao invited Junhui to. Either he had other prior commitments lined up, or, as Wonwoo has been suspecting for a long time, Jihoon’s made the smart decision that dealing with Junhui _and_ Soonyoung _and_ Mingyu in the same room would increase his cardiovascular risk tenfold.

“Yeah, we slept with him too.”

Minghao hums in consideration. “Is it a strictly sexual arrangement?”

“That’s the problem.”

He reaches a hand in front of Wonwoo to warn him of the uneven ground in front of him. Wonwoo steps aside to avoid it. Ahead of them, Mingyu unceremoniously trips over his own foot. Minghao stifles a laugh and hollers, “Are you okay, love?” to which Mingyu replies, “Yeah!” with an unwavering grin and a thumb up, then he’s off running again.

“Whose?” he asks Wonwoo. “Whose problem is it?”

“Soonyoung’s. It started out like you assumed, strictly sexual. Uh, until it wasn’t anymore. We had a talk, all four of us—well, Junhui did most of the talking, but yeah. Soonyoung said he needed to think about it.”

“I can understand why.”

“You can?”

“He’s got a big heart, right?” Minghao holds his palm over his chest, a gesture of emphasis. “That much is obvious. And sometimes, the bigger something is, the heavier it becomes. Heavy things are hard to move.”

“Right," Wonwoo nods. "Any pearls of wisdom to offer me?”

Minghao lifts his lens in Wonwoo’s direction and quickly bears his thumb down on the shutter button, giving Wonwoo no warning nor the opportunity to strike a pose. He checks the outcome right after, the corners of his lips tugged up in satisfaction. Wonwoo cranes his neck to get a look, but Minghao moves the camera out of his reach.

“That depends,” Minghao says instead of letting Wonwoo peek at his display, “what’s your current strategy?”

“He hasn’t said anything about it.” Nothing at all, actually. “I’m letting him take his time to think, I suppose. I’ll respect whatever decision he makes.”

“Okay, and what about your decision?”

“That’s irrelevant.”

It is. He can’t make any decision that counteracts Soonyoung's, which means Soonyoung has the final say. The first few days since the conversation at Junhui’s, Wonwoo was torn between nurturing the hope that Soonyoung may just agree to give things a try or preparing himself for the possibility that he won’t want to. Then he realises: whatever Soonyoung decides, it changes everything and nothing at the same time. Wonwoo’s goal is still to make him happy. The rest will follow. The rest _has_ to follow.

“I bet Soonyoung-hyung would beg to differ.”

Mingyu trips again and it steals Minghao’s attention for a moment. He turns to face them with hands clenched at his sides and a full-blown pout, probably asking Minghao to hold his hand like it’s his first day in school or something.

Gross.

Minghao links his arm around Wonwoo’s and starts picking up his pace, leaving Wonwoo no choice but to match it. Thankfully, his long legs provide him with the ability to do so with ease.

“Try asking him if he wants to talk about it,” Minghao offers, the smile spreading across his face matching Mingyu’s own as they get closer to each other. “Who knows, maybe he’s just waiting for you to open the conversation.”

🔥🔥🔥🔥

Not that Minghao doesn’t give good advice, but Wonwoo sincerely doubts he’ll ever take one from him again.

They’re just about to turn in for the night. Soonyoung’s put on one of those fuzzy socks his junior at work bought him, small cartoon tigers decorating the fabric. He looks so unbelievably soft, Wonwoo wants nothing more but to hold him close while they sleep, tethering his heart to Soonyoung’s so they can beat in tandem.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks tentatively.

Although he’s sure Soonyoung can hear him, his question receives no response for a moment. Maybe he should elaborate. Maybe Soonyoung thinks he’s referring to his work or whatever stupid thing a crew member did during today’s fundraiser.

But then Soonyoung answers, “Not with you,” coldly and he might as well have cut Wonwoo open from sternum to navel with a rusty box cutter. “I just—I don’t know how much influence you’ll have over my decision.”

Despite the implication that Wonwoo has as much power over Soonyoung as Soonyoung does in him, a splinter stubbornly lodges itself in his throat all the same.

Wonwoo forces out a barely audible, “Okay.” He shakes his head in hopes of clearing his vision from the heat of unshed tears. “But if you need to, I want you to know that you can.”

“Don’t worry,” he says again, tone still lacking his usual warmth. “I know where to find you since you’re right across the mattress from me. For now, anyway.”

Alarms ring in Wonwoo’s head. _For now, anyway?_

“What does that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Just forget it.”

“No,” Wonwoo insists, placing a hand on Soonyoung’s shoulder. “I can’t just forget it.” His fingers trace the knotted bundle of muscle, applying mild pressure there to relieve some tension.

“Baby…” he calls, and Soonyoung closes his eyes, drowning himself in Wonwoo’s voice. “You can say no. I won’t hold it against you, none of us would. That’s why the rules are there in the first place.”

“The rules which only I wanted to set.”

“The rules all of us agreed to,” Wonwoo reminds him gently. “You…” He caresses Soonyoung’s cheek. “You were never alone in it. Any of it.”

Soonyoung opens his eyes and turns his face in Wonwoo’s direction, devastating him with how _inconsolable_ he looks. “What good are the rules, Wonwoo?” Did Wonwoo put that expression on his face? “When it came down to it, you were with them. I was the only clueless person, sitting at that table, completely ignorant, while you’ve been—you’ve been,” Soonyoung stops abruptly, his bottom lip wobbling hard. He bites down on it and averts his gaze, eyes studying the paint job of their bedroom ceiling. “Enough. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

He shrugs Wonwoo's hand off his shoulder. Wonwoo stares at it, hurt roiling in his chest. Soonyoung doesn’t want his touch.

“I wanted to make you happy,” he tells Soonyoung, heart spilling crimson all over their pristine sheets. “That’s all I ever want.”

“I was happy.” He’s not anymore, is he? “For a while.” _But I wanted you happy forever_. “Now I need to sleep, Wonwoo.”

“I love you,” Wonwoo whispers to Soonyoung’s turned back, desperate for him to understand how he feels.

His admission receives no answer.

🔥🔥🔥🔥

Wonwoo meant it that day when he said he’d call Junhui. Apparently, his best friend didn't mean it as much when he answered _okay_. His calls get redirected to voice mail often enough for Wonwoo to suspect Junhui is doing it on purpose. He even to put a halt to their weekly lunches. Out of respect, Junhui had explained hastily. Soonyoung's already expressed his preference to be included in conversations that pertain to him, and if Wonwoo goes out with either Junhui or Jihoon without him, talking about Soonyoung is pretty much inevitable.

Naturally, the last thing he expects is for Junhui’s name to flash on his screen in the middle of the night. Without his glasses on, he has to squint to make out the name, but there’s no mistaking the cat emoji in the caller ID.

“Hey,” Wonwoo says into the phone, eyes barely open. Judging by the lack of sunlight, it’s nowhere near morning yet. “What’s up, Jun-ah?”

A voice that Wonwoo registers belong to a non-Junhui person comes through the line. “Hey, Wonwoo. It’s Seungcheol.”

“Oh.” Wonwoo’s infinitely more awake now than before. Junhui’s co-worker using his phone to call Wonwoo can’t mean anything good. “Hyung?”

“I know you’re probably asleep just now, but any chance you can come pick Jun up?”

There’s some loud rustling from Seungcheol’s side, followed by a faint retching sound. God, Wonwoo prays that’s not Junhui. He would kill him _dead_ if it was.

“We went drinking and he sort of… went above his upper limits. I would drive him back but—” Seungcheol cuts off to tell someone _hey, no, stop that_. “Where was I? Oh, Hansol’s not feeling so well either, and his place is on the other way, so I thought I’d give you a call,” Seungcheol explains quickly.

More rustling comes through the connection.

“If you can’t, then don’t worry about it. I’ll get him back safely.”

“No, no,” Wonwoo blindly pats the nightstand for his glasses. “I can come. Text me the address?” He puts them on and looks over to Soonyoung, who appears to still be fast asleep. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Alright. I’ll stay with him in the meantime.”

“Thanks, hyung.”

Sighing, Wonwoo wonders what Seungcheol’s definition of _went above his upper limits_ is. Despite his high alcohol tolerance, Junhui’s one of the few people who doesn’t like the taste of alcohol. He only ever drinks at social events to be polite to other guests. Wonwoo rubs a hand across his face and runs fingers through his unbridled mop of hair, gathering enough consciousness before he tries to stand up.

Soonyoung’s sleep-laden voice stops Wonwoo from swinging his legs off the side of the bed. “What is it?”

He shifts his body to face him. “I have to go fetch Junhui,” Wonwoo whispers softly, lining his forearm with the mattress so he can part Soonyoung’s bangs with his index finger. “Go back to sleep.”

Soonyoung blinks sluggishly in return, the contours of his face showing clear evidence of fatigue. Wonwoo rubs his thumb across the dark circle underneath his eye and wishes he has the superpower to erase Soonyoung’s exhaustion.

“Do you want me to come along?” he offers Wonwoo, absentmindedly leaning into the caress. It must be sleep lowering his otherwise impenetrable walls like this, but Wonwoo will take a small victory over no victory.

“It’s okay, I’ll be quick.” He kisses Soonyoung’s forehead, his boyfriend’s skin warm from sleep. There’s no need to drag Soonyoung with him when he has work tomorrow. “Better save your energy.”

“Okay.”

Wonwoo smiles. “Okay.”

“Wonu.”

“Yes?”

It’s tender, the way Soonyoung leans up to brush his lips against Wonwoo’s. Something flutters inside Wonwoo's stomach when Soonyoung traces his nose along his jawline, unwilling to part from him until the very last moment possible.

“Be careful.”

"I will," he answers, slipping out of bed.

After some splashes of cold water on his face and a to-go cup of coffee to jumpstart his system back to life, Wonwoo heads to the location Seungcheol texted him. Junhui’s sitting on the sidewalk when he arrives, head leaned on Hansol’s shoulder. Both of them look miserably drunk. They’ve probably come down from the alcohol-induced euphoria by now. 

Getting Junhui in the passenger seat is an easier feat than Wonwoo thought it would be, mostly because Junhui’s reluctant to fight Seungcheol, his lack of amusement over the whole situation making him appear intimidating enough for Junhui to behave. Wonwoo apologises for Junhui’s lack of decorum, an effort Seungcheol waves off dismissively. He starts tugging Hansol in the other direction and Wonwoo waits until they're out of sight before he jumps in the car.

Junhui shows no interest in explaining his situation nor acknowledging Wonwoo’s presence, which is fine with him. It stays fine right until Junhui pulls something out of his pocket and puts a white stick into his mouth.

Wonwoo can’t believe what he’s seeing.

He snatches the cigarette out of Junhui’s mouth, grabs the pack from his lap while he’s at it. Slightly dazed, Junhui continues fumbling with the lighter until he realises the pressure between his lips is gone.

“What?” Junhui tries to steal it back from him, but he misses Wonwoo’s hand by… a lot. His hand-eye coordination is shit when he’s inebriated like this. “Just one, come on.”

“No.” His friend lets out a strangled noise of protest, then makes another attempt to retrieve the cigarette. “Jun-ah,” Wonwoo says firmly, placing the fresh pack in the small compartment on his door. “I said no.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” Junhui snarls, biting.

“Are you serious?” 

He’s gripping the steering wheel tight enough for his hands to hurt, but it's that or grabbing Junhui by the lapels of his shirt. Not that would make whatever problem he has go away in an instant.

“First, Seungcheol-hyung called me at God knows what o'clock, asking me to pick you up because you're drunk off your ass. Now you’re trying to smoke in my car? What’s is going on with you?”

“Give me a break. I need to take the edge off, okay?” His seatbelt makes a noise when Junhui slumps far forward until his forehead meets the dashboard. Wonwoo’s about to ask him if something happened at work, or with Jihoon—which would explain why he was the one who received the call—when Junhui adds, “Considering our current situation, this is far from the worst idea I ever have.”

“And what’s that?” Wonwoo entertains him. “Your worst idea.”

“Falling in love with you.”

Ah, shit. The lines are so abysmally blurred between them, Wonwoo’s not sure whether he’s here in the capacity of a friend or a potential lover. What can he say? What should he say? Would Soonyoung be okay with him saying anything, or would that be another disservice to add to Wonwoo’s betrayal tally?

“And Soonyoung,” Junhui continues, voice strained. “God. Soonyoung, I miss him. How’s he? Wonwoo, the car is moving so fast. I think I’m going to faint.”

That's his cue to stop driving for a bit. He puts his indicator on and switches to the right-most lane, pulling into the nearest 24-hour convenience store parking lot he can find.

“Soonyoung is… handling it better than you are.”

“Of course he is,” Junhui sniffles loudly without taking his forehead away from the dashboard. “He’s so well-adjusted all the time.”

“Hey.”

“What?”

“Let’s get this straight.” Wonwoo smooths his hands over the fabric of his sweatpants. “You’re falling in love with me?”

It's quiet for a few moments before Junhui gives an answer so characteristic of him, “Despite my better judgment.”

“Jun-ah…” God, how does a name as familiar as his own feel so foreign rolling off his tongue? “Can we not joke about this?”

His importunate tone has Junhui leaning back in his seat, features contorted with an emotion akin to regret. “I’m sorry. You’re right. Yes, I am. I am, Wonwoo. This is crazy, isn't it?. I have no clue what I’m doing.”

“But you were always so—“

“Confident?” His brown eyes are glassy, unfocused. Wonwoo can smell the hard liquor in his breath from where he’s sitting. “Yeah, well, it was baseless. Someone had to put a brave foot forward and I thought—I really thought Soonyoung would say yes but he _didn’t_ and now we’re here.”

Wonwoo reaches over to stroke Junhui's hair, twirling the strands at the nape of his neck. “He didn’t say no, either.”

“I think he will, though. Don’t you?”

Had Junhui asked him this question yesterday, Wonwoo would have had a different answer. The way Soonyoung was tonight—it sparked hope inside him that there’s a happy conclusion waiting for them past the initial struggle. A happy conclusion might not necessarily mean the romantic future Junhui envisioned, but Wonwoo gets the feeling that they will come out alright in the end. Limbs intact. Heart in one whole piece. All four of them.

“Well, you’re very optimistic.” He pats Junhui’s head lightly. “If he says no, then we learn to be friends again. We’re friends for life, Jun-ah, nothing can change that unless we let it.”

“You’ll always be that guy who sat at the very front of the bleachers at all my wushu competitions after a week of pretending not to hear me when I tell you about them?”

There’s no use fighting the fondness that washes over him, so Wonwoo lets the feeling curve his lips into a smile. “Always.”

“But things will be different.”

“Things are already different,” he says, then, “Why do you like me?”

Don't worry, Wonwoo is fully aware of how stupid this is. To have this conversation when Junhui might forget all about it when he wakes up in the morning. What was that saying again? A drunk mind speaks a sober heart? For once, Wonwoo wants straight answers to his questions. He loves the riddles, enjoys putting in the time and effort to understand how the complex gears in Junhui’s brain form a coherent network, but things between them are complicated at the moment. Sue him for seeking some simplicity amidst it all.

Besides, Junhui is sober enough to tease him. “What are you asking? I feel like we're back in third grade now.”

“Indulge me,” Wonwoo pleads with him. “I thought about this a lot after our lunch with Jihoon that day, but the answer I came up with was always the same. If anything were to happen between us, it would have happened a long time ago.”

Junhui stares at him, as attentive as he can be given his current state. In his effort, Wonwoo finds the courage to continue.

“Why didn’t we get together in high school, when everyone’s priority was to find innovative ways to get off? We both knew we were attracted to boys by then. Why didn't we hit it off when we were roommates, constantly in each other’s space? There were so many instances we could just fall into a relationship. Did you—did you love me then? Even a little?”

It feels liberating to say the words aloud, to ask the questions he never knew existed, to have Junhui capture his every word and give them the same amount of consideration he’s always given him. 

“Of course I loved you then, I’ve always loved you.”

He takes a deep breath.

“The way I feel now is different from before, though,” Junhui acknowledges, right hand coming up to make an even bigger mess of his hair. “There’s just this gravity, I guess, to the person that caring for Soonyoung makes out of you. The person that caring for _Jihoon_ makes out of you.”

Although Junhui seems to struggle through his explanation, Wonwoo understands him perfectly. He’s the same way, after all. His favourite memories of Junhui consists of the different ways he keeps taking care of others. Junhui setting Soonyoung’s chopsticks for him when they order takeouts, knowing Soonyoung can never snap them properly. Junhui fighting exhaustion to massage Jihoon’s hips and thighs so he wouldn’t wake up terribly sore in the morning. Junhui making sure Wonwoo is included in every aspect of his life, because as Wonwoo comes to realise at this moment, he's carved out a place by Junhui’s side, too.

Knife or no knife.

“I’m drawn to that person,” he exhales shakily, “inexplicably so, which is why I’m having a hard time knowing I might be obliterating his existence.”

Junhui reaches out to Wonwoo’s knee tentatively, hand landing at his mid-thigh. He slides it downward, Wonwoo's eyes following his movement.

“Wonwoo, I promise I’ll stop forcing you into things from now on. Just… forgive me, okay? Whatever the outcome of this is, I need to know you’ll forgive me.”

Wonwoo unbuckles his seatbelt and leans over to envelop Junhui in a tight hug. Junhui sags in his embrace. “What are you saying? There was never anything I did with you that I didn’t want to.”

He pretends not to hear the quiet sob Junhui lets out to save his friend’s pride.

"You didn't do anything wrong, okay?" 

Junhui's hands find purchase on the small of his back, crumpling the fabric of his jacket inside his fists. 

“There’s nothing to forgive, Jun-ah."

Nothing at all.

🔥🔥🔥🔥

“My muffin,” Junhui laments dramatically when Jihoon swings the front door open in nothing but his sleep shirt and a pair of black shorts. “I missed you so _much_ , but it makes me sad when you look at me like that.”

Jihoon steps aside to let Wonwoo bring Junhui in. “Like what,” he says, tone flat.

“Like this!” Junhui gestures excessively at Jihoon’s disapproving expression. “Like you’re disappointed in all of my life choices! I mean, you were one of them, you know? And you’re like, the greatest thing ever.” Then, at Jihoon’s persistent heartless look, Junhui deflates like a beach ball left too long under the sun. “Muffin, I’m sorry.”

“Let’s get you to bed,” is Jihoon’s curt response to that, then he’s steering Junhui away from the door.

Right on cue, Wonwoo’s phone buzzes in his pocket.

 **Soonyoungie <3:** is jun ok? lmk when ur on ur way back. i love you.

 **You:** He’s okay. I’m at his place now, will drive back soon. You don't have to wait up for me, just sleep.

 **You:** I love you, Soonyoung.

Leaving without saying anything to Jihoon doesn’t feel right, so Wonwoo pads over to the couch to wait for him to reappear. He hears a thud from the bedroom, followed by Jihoon’s footsteps behind him. The younger man spots Wonwoo sitting in the dark and strides to the kitchen instead.

Wonwoo gets up.

“Thanks for getting him home,” Jihoon says over his shoulders, acting as cold with Wonwoo as he was with Junhui.

What did Wonwoo do? It's not that he expects to be showered with affection, but it’d be nice to at least get a smile from Jihoon. Does he not know how much Wonwoo’s missed the teasing quirk of his lips? It’s been close to three weeks since they last saw each other.

Ah. It sucks to know that Wonwoo’s alone in his longing.

“Are we okay?”

Jihoon fills his glass to the brim but only takes a small sip before he walks over to the sink and dumps the remaining liquid down the drain. “Of course. Why wouldn't we be?”

“Jihoon,” Wonwoo takes a step forward, one heavy foot in front of the other. “you’re not looking me in the eye.”

He doesn’t say a word for the longest time and Wonwoo supposes he’s used up all his luck to have that long-overdue conversation with Junhui. He should leave now, right? The door is right there and Jihoon looks like he wants Wonwoo out of his place sooner rather than later. The silent treatment stings, but everyone has their own method to deal with the situation and Wonwoo can’t assign blame on Jihoon for having his.

“I’ll go then, Jihoonie.” The words prickle. “I missed you a lot.” He clears his throat when his voice breaks at the tail end of his sentence. “I’ll see you soon, okay? Take care.”

Jihoon keeps staring at the sink and Wonwoo nods in acceptance before he turns around, car keys jangling in hand.

He's halfway to the door when he hears Jihoon’s quiet admission. “I’m trying not to get more attached to you," he chuckles bitterly, "you know, just in case we have to stop seeing each other to save both our relationships.”

Oh. That’s certainly one explanation for his behaviour, and a very Jihoon one at that. Before he knows it, Wonwoo's making his way to him. He secures Jihoon’s face in a tender hold the moment he’s close enough to do so.

“Don’t dream of getting rid of me or Soonyoung that easily.”

 _So headstrong_ , Wonwoo muses when Jihoon refuses to return Wonwoo’s touch. _You’re fighting a losing battle, Jihoon_. Jihoon sighs like he can hear Wonwoo’s thoughts, then his arms circle around Wonwoo’s waist.

“What are you thinking?”

“How do you know I’m thinking anything?”

“There must be a reason behind this cocksure display of self-assurance,” Jihoon responds, though the words aren’t unkind. The warmth from his delicate hands sears through the layers of Wonwoo’s jacket and shirt.

“Well,” he stares into Jihoon's eyes. “I just think… we’ll be alright.”

“I hope so.”

“I gotta go,” says Wonwoo, tucking a loose strand of Jihoon’s hair behind his ear. “Soonyoung’s waiting for me.”

“Drive safe, yeah?” Wonwoo nods in assurance, offering Jihoon a gentle smile. “And… tell Soonyoung I miss his annoying ass.”

“Should I leave out the annoying part?”

Jihoon returns his smile. It’s feeble, but it’s there.

“No, keep it in.”

🔥🔥🔥🔥

He tries to make as little noise as possible when he comes home, but it’s all for nought when he finds Soonyoung lying awake in their bed. His head is partially on Wonwoo’s pillow, one arm outstretched across the vacant space—Wonwoo’s side of the bed. Soonyoung gazes at Wonwoo as he takes off his jacket and makes room for him when Wonwoo joins him under the covers.

“What happened?”

“I’ll tell you the whole thing in the morning," Wonwoo promises, "but there’s nothing to worry about.” Soonyoung pulls him close, a leg thrown over Wonwoo’s hip as part of the effort. Wonwoo gladly lets him do what he wants. “He said he misses you. Jihoon as well.”

“Jihoon said he misses me?” The tone of Soonyoung’s voice is infused with mock disbelief.

“Well.” Jihoon did tell Wonwoo to leave the annoying part in. “Word for word, he said he misses your annoying ass.”

“Right. That sounds more like him.”

Wonwoo runs his hand up and down Soonyoung’s back, along his spinal column. Now that he’s back in his bed with his head on his pillow and Soonyoung’s body pressed against his, Wonwoo is tired again. He desperately needs some shut-eye. Soonyoung needs it too, even more than he does.

“Let’s get some rest, hm?”

“We’ll talk to them soon,” Soonyoung responds, words muffled because of the way his face is tucked into the crook of Wonwoo’s neck.

“Soon?”

“Yeah,” he confirms faintly, “soon.”

“Okay.”

🔥🔥🔥🔥

“This is awkward,” Soonyoung declares, arms crossed over his chest defensively.

No one’s said anything since the moment they gathered in the living room, and Wonwoo’s a little unclear as to what he’s referring to by _this_. The situation? The room’s temperature? The muted sound from their television Wonwoo meant to provide background noise in case the silence gets too overwhelming? Wonwoo needs him to be a bit more specific here. That way, he may have a chance at rectifying whatever is bothering Soonyoung.

“I don’t know how to respond to that,” Jihoon answers, since he’s the one sitting on the chair right across from Soonyoung. The one Soonyoung’s chose to lock his attention to. “I was sort of expecting you to say something else.”

“Yeah, like what?” he challenges, raising his chin. “You and your expectations. Excuse me if I can’t always meet them.”

Jihoon’s hackles rise at the tart remark, and with good reason. Wonwoo didn’t account for Soonyoung to be this hostile, not when he was the one who wanted to have this conversation. It’s not like he’s being held here against his wishes—Soonyoung set the time and place himself. What’s the purpose of them being here if not to talk things out properly?

“Did you invite us here to fight?”

“No,” Soonyoung denies firmly. “I invited you here to give you my answer.”

Junhui, who's spent the last couple of minutes trying to find a comfortable position to lean against the sliding balcony door, forgoes his initial goal and slumps to the floor. Soonyoung watches him with keen eyes, waits until he’s settled down before he carries on.

“Look, I... was raised on a farm. I can recite 50 facts about avocados off the top of my head that none of you knows anything about. Growing up in the country, I was always too bright, too tactile, too persistent for anyone’s liking. And to make matters worse, I liked boys the way other boys liked girls. I didn't fit. There was no place for me anywhere, no matter how hard I looked.”

The childhood accounts Soonyoung shared with him are abundant, but it never escaped Wonwoo’s notice how most of them are about his parents. The chickens he took care of. His noona doing this and that during her juvenile rebellion years and getting into trouble for them. The only mentions of people his age were vague and made in passing; the friends Soonyoung keeps until today are the ones he made in college.

In a way, he had told Wonwoo the big picture unintentionally and in fragments before allowing him the full version one night; the narration delivered in a soft voice under the safety of their weighted blanket.

Soonyoung looks away from Junhui and gazes at Wonwoo, eyes softening a fraction. “When I met you, I finally found that place,” he smiles just enough for a hint of his dimples to show. “Because you… cast a perfect mould for all my jagged edges.”

He wants to walk over to him and pull Soonyoung up and in by the waist to kiss away the bitter undercurrent in his words, but Wonwoo can sense he’s not done talking yet.

“Which is why I’m not at all surprised that you’ve done the same for others,” Soonyoung continues, gesturing to Junhui and Jihoon. “So, I am giving you my full consent to explore what you have with them.”

Oh, Soonyoung. Of all the ways he remains unpredictable to Wonwoo—

“I think you misunderstood what I was trying to convey last time," Junhui says. "I, _we_ meant all of us, Soonyoung,” he reiterates clearly, “Together.”

“No, you don’t.”

“What is this?” Jihoon demands, rising to his feet at Soonyoung’s resolute tone. “I can take no for an answer, but why are you putting words in our mouths?”

“Jihoon,” Soonyoung sighs around the enunciation of his name, “be realistic for a second. The basis of our very relationship is tolerance. And by tolerance, I mean I annoy you and you tolerate me because I’m part of the Junhui-Wonwoo package. You don’t like me that much when neither of us is naked, which is fine. There’s no reason for you to.”

Soonyoung turns his attention to Junhui. 

“Junnie. You and I, it’s a miracle our friendship lasted this long.”

Soonyoung clasps his hands together above his lap, clearly convinced that he’s right on all counts. Stubbornness is one of Wonwoo’s favourite traits of his, but it would have been nice if Soonyoung had taken a lower dosage of it this morning. He’s choosing to see all the ways he would never fit with Junhui and Jihoon instead of all the ways he already does.

“We have nothing in common except for dancing and the fact that we both love Wonwoo. Other than that, I understand _nothing_ about you. Like, why do you need to set your tongue on fire every time you eat?”

Rhetorical or not, Soonyoung doesn’t give Junhui the opportunity to answer the question.

“The sex was great, but it was just that. Sex. Nothing more.”

To Wonwoo, he sounds like he was trying to convince himself more than anything else. 

“Did you practise this speech?” Jihoon ask.

Soonyoung’s eyes narrow instantly. “Excuse me?”

“I asked if you practised this speech,” Jihoon repeats, undeterred in his search for an answer, “because that lie just now was awfully told.”

“What—”

“Tell me a fact about avocados.”

“You can’t just call me a liar and then ask me about avocados, Jihoon,” Soonyoung says in a clipped tone.

“You said you had 50 random facts that we probably didn’t know.” Wonwoo catches Junhui’s eyes and sees the anticipation dancing in his brown irises. Though he doesn’t fully understand its origin, he has a feeling he’s about to. “So give me one of them.”

Defeated, Soonyoung throws his hands in the air. “Fine, alright. Did you know that avocados are in the same family as cinnamon?”

“No, I didn’t." Satisfaction floods Jihoon's features and Wonwoo is nowhere near prepared for what comes next. "Did you know that you have the world’s most wonderful laugh?”

From the surprised look on Soonyoung's face, neither is he.

“The corners of your lips tug upward and push the apples of your cheeks up, turning your eyes into nothing but a pair of lines. They’re not exactly horizontal, though. In fact, they’re quite slanted, like clock hands showing ten minutes past ten. Your shoulders shake and your hair does the same, then the entire room lights up with you. Whenever I see a joke on my phone, I'd take a screenshot instead of sending it to you immediately, because I want to see that laugh in person.”

Soonyoung blinks once, twice, then a third time, unable to catch up with the development of the situation.

“Now, tell me another.”

“What?”

“Tell me another random piece of information about avocado.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Jihoon steps around the coffee table to occupy the space next to him, taking Soonyoung’s hand in his before he says, “for every obscure fact you have about avocados, I have a reason for falling in love with you.”

Wonwoo doesn’t know who’s more overwhelmed at this point, him or Soonyoung. Jihoon makes no mistake in his admission. He means every word that comes out of his mouth. He didn't stutter nor hesitate, though the tips of his ears are vibrant red. He said _falling in love with you_ and Wonwoo wants to taste the sentiment on his tongue. It must be saccharine, he knows it is. 

“You don’t _annoy_ me,” he tells Soonyoung, thumb rubbing over the back of Soonyoung’s hand, over his knuckles, the valleys in between them. Soonyoung’s gaze drops to their point of contact. “I’m sorry I made you think that way, Soonyoung-ah. It takes some time to learn my love language, huh?”

Junhui clears his throat, an efficient method to get the attention he wanted. “Half of the reason I always dump so much chilli oil into my noodle bowl is to check if you still worry about me.”

“That sounds insane,” Soonyoung decides after a beat. “ _You_ sound insane.”

“It lets me know whether you’ve grown tired of me,” Junhui shrugs as though his explanation makes perfect sense. Which—it doesn't, not really, but it also does at the same time. That’s part of his charm. “You’ve never let me down, though. You always look concerned about my awful eating habit. I know it’s stupid to test people’s limits that way—it’s probably unfair, too. I’d regret it sometimes, mostly because my stomach would flare up, but I’d do it again. I want to regret the things I’ve done, not the things I skipped out on because I was too afraid of what might happen.”

“Are you guys hearing this?” Soonyoung points at Junhui using the hand that isn't held by Jihoon, making his case to the other two men. “He’s insane!”

“I don’t want to regret not taking this shot, Soonyoung," Junhui tells him.

Slowly, Soonyoung turns his gaze to Wonwoo.

“And you? What do you want?”

Here comes the easiest truth of the night: “I want you.” 

"Me?"

"Yeah. I want you to be happy."

“That wasn’t my question, Wonwoo,” Soonyoung reasserts. “I asked what do _you_ want? Independent of me, independent of what I might think of you for it.”

“Then I want you to be happy.”

He lets out a resigned sigh, looking like he’s just about done with Wonwoo’s thick head. “Wonwoo.”

“I want you to be loved the way you deserve,” Wonwoo walks toward the couch, bridging the distance between him and Soonyoung, “and I want to be the person who loves you like that.”

He gently pats Soonyoung’s head once, flattening the fluffy mop of hair under the welcomed pressure. “But, Soonyoung-ah, I don’t have to be the _only_ person. I don’t want to deprive the world of the chance to love you and to be loved by you in return. It’s an incredible privilege, you know?”

Soonyoung looks up at Wonwoo, lips parted in astonishment. His eyes betray all the emotions roiling inside his head and heart. They have always been so expressive; people nicknamed him _tiger’s gaze_ for the knife-like quality his eyes displayed when Soonyoung's dancing. The title still fits him perfectly now, especially when he stares at Wonwoo so intensely he’d feel like a prey animal being stalked by an apex predator.

Tonight is different.

Tonight there is uncertainty in those eyes. Hesitation. A dash of fear, but also hope concealed behind it. Excitement.

“The only reason I could cast a perfect mould was because you were brave enough to show me all your curves and edges.” He shifts his hand down, now framing Soonyoung’s jaw, entirely delicate in its action. Wonwoo knows Soonyoung’s dauntless, he just needs to be reminded of the fact. “Because you were always honest with me.”

His boyfriend turns his face to the side, kissing the heel of Wonwoo’s palm. “So,” _a_ _llow me to ask you this_ , “was it just sex for you?”

“No,” Soonyoung answers in a small voice. His hand trembles, but Jihoon is doing a wonderful job at keeping him grounded. “It’d be much easier if it was.”

“You know what they say,” comes Junhui’s soft comment. “The good things don’t come easy.”

Soonyoung glances at him, the angle awkward because he refuses to part with Wonwoo’s hand on his face. “I don’t want to hear that from you, Mr 'I torture myself to play mind games on my friends instead of just asking them if they cared about me'.”

Junhui laughs, endeared. “I hope we never fit perfectly.” Soonyoung opens his mouth to refute, but Junhui beats him to it. “I want to drive them crazy with how much we argue just for the sake of driving them crazy.”

“Insane,” Soonyoung mutters under his breath.

“I’ll learn to love you right, Soonyoung. I want to. Give me a chance to?”

Wonwoo gives him a toothy smile when Soonyoung looks back at him and strokes his cheek in encouragement.

“Ji.”

“Yeah.”

“Avocados have more potassium in them than bananas do.”

“You’re absolutely breathtaking when you’re trying not to cry,” Jihoon offers his reciprocal fact in a rushed breath. “And not just in bed, either,” he teases, tone lilting.

“Shut up,” Soonyoung barks at Jihoon, releasing his hand. “Or else I'll rinse your filthy mouth with dish soap.” The heat is negated by the way he pulls Jihoon in with a careful arm around his shoulder.

Soonyoung beckons Junhui to come closer, an order he happily obeys with a spring in his step. He makes his way to stand behind Soonyoung, leaning down to kiss the crown of his head over and over again. Wonwoo kneels on the side of the couch, hand moving from Soonyoung’s face to the nape of his neck.

“We gotta go slow,” Soonyoung murmurs. “No sudden big changes. I have to ease into it.”

Jihoon hums in agreement. “I can do slow. We can just do what we've been doing until you're ready for whatever comes next. You set the pace.”

"I like the sound of that."

“You wanna set some rules?” 

Wonwoo gazes up at Junhui, noting the significance of the offer that had come from him.

“No. No rules this time.”

“Okay.”

“Just try not to break my heart.”

“Okay.”

“Or Wonwoo will break your nose.”

“I will?” Wonwoo questions, genuinely surprised. Soonyoung fixes him with a sullen look. “Oh, right. That’s right, I will,” he corrects his stance, leaning in to kiss the petulant pout away from Soonyoung’s lips.

No one is inclined to believe him, not even Soonyoung himself, but it doesn't matter. Wonwoo will endure a lifetime of scepticism if it means he gets to keep the three of them in return. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one moreeeeeeeee to go and from the bits i've written i can tell you that its basically... just porn. and fluff. but mostly... porn. i'm sorry. thanks for sticking around regardless. :D

**Author's Note:**

> i hope everyone is staying safe and healthy and sane!!
> 
> sincerely,  
> a girl on yet another lockdown
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/blminsmmr) | [cc](https://curiouscat.me/bloominsummer)


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